


Awaiting Julia

by mmmuse



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:25:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 57,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5565643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmuse/pseuds/mmmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross and Demelza are expecting their first child. Inspired by the 2015 production of "Poldark" with some references to the original written works by Winston Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: the following story is a product of my overactive imagination. I own NONE of this. Wish I did, but I don't. My deepest appreciation and gratitude to Winston Graham, Debbie Horsfield, Aidan Turner, Eleanor Tomlinson and the cast of the show for all of the inspiration I've got from them. I'll do my best to keep true to the characters, I really will. 
> 
> This picks up right where I left off in [Six Months: Journey to Love](http://archiveofourown.org/series/340453). More notes at the end. I hope you enjoy.

“I love you.”

The words caressed Demelza’s ears, words she once thought he would never say, but words she now knew he meant from the bottom of his heart. She’d seen it clear enough the night before when she’d sung to him. She smiled, feeling the muscles along her neck and back relax for the first time in what felt like years as she rolled his words around her head and heart. He leaned forward and kissed her. Kissed her so softly it made her throat close with longing. He leaned back, pressing his forehead against hers and she felt him exhale. Relief? Had he been as scared and nervous as she’d been the night before?

He was the most vulnerable she’d ever seen him, and it made her feel as if they were equals on this new path they now walked together; and that equality gave her strength.

“Well, I hope you have a little love to spare,” Demelza said softly, her heart pounding in her throat.

She watched as his eyes drifted open to meet hers. His fingers toyed with hers, his thumb rubbing against the ring he’d placed on her hand. He sat back, smiling at her. He’d shared so many smiles with her over the years, over the six months of their married life, and this one was easy, warm. His eyes sparkled, almost bemused.

“For what?” he asked, gently.

“Our child.”

He blinked at her, and she wondered if he even comprehended what she was telling him and she delighted as she saw realization began to dawn. First, in his smile and then in his eyes as she nodded, her own smile broadening, making the muscles in her cheeks ache. Then recognition, pure and true, seemed to streak throughout his body, dazed, elated as he cupped her cheeks in his hands and drew her forward in a kiss.

Their tongues met and tangled as he shifted his hands from her face to her waist, hauling her up off the mattress and into his arms. He stood up, bringing her with him until her feet touched the floor and they were pressed, lips to chest to hips to thigh. He was shuddering against her, low, murmuring sounds emanating from his throat and caressing her ears as his hands travelled the length of her back. Her hands were lost in tangle of his hair, fingers clutching the curve of his skull as his mouth worked against hers. Soon, they gentled, parting to gaze into one another’s eyes.

Ross swallowed, blinked. His eyes were the colour of whisky in firelight. “You’re certain?” he asked, his voice soft, gruff.

Demelza had to blink herself, trying to remember what he was talking about. It came to her a second later and she laughed brightly. “Yes, Ross, I’m very certain.” She felt tears in her eyes, the joy of sharing this news with him so complete. “I’m nearly four months along now.”

He gaped at her, then thrust her away from him, keeping her within arm’s length, his hands on her shoulders. His eyes swept her form and she laughed again. “You won’t be able to see anything with me in this shirt of yours, Ross!” She looked up at him, shy all of a sudden at the smile the eased across his face, the fingers that plucked at the collar of her nightrail. “Ross, come to bed.” She eased away from him and climbed onto the mattress and under the covers. He arched a brow at her and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

Moments later, he slid under the covers with her, their knees touching. “All right, my love,” he said softly.

Demelza’s toes curled as this new endearment caressed her hearing for the first time and she flicked a sparkling glance in his direction. She hesitated for a moment before reaching down to pinch the hem of the shirt between her fingertips and drew it up and over her head. She sat very still, the heat from the fire warming one side of her body while the other was warmed by that of her husband.

His eyes touched upon her face before shifting down to her breasts. “Demelza,” he breathed, raising his right hand to gently cup her left breast, full and swollen. His thumb brushed against her nipple, berry red and peaked, and it made her inhale sharply. He stopped, his eyes flicking back up to her face, a look of concern creasing his fine brow. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she said, licking her bottom lip. “They are sensitive, but that was lovely, Ross.”

He smiled and ran his thumb along the nipple once again, his eyes darkening. “I remember you’d said they’d been tender of late.” He brushed the crest with the back of his fingers. “Because of the child?”

She nodded. “They aren’t too bad now, Ross, but there were days I dreaded putting on my stays,” she said, her eyes closing at the gentleness of his caress. She opened her eyes and lay back, drawing him down beside her. He leaned up on his left elbow and hovered over her. She watched as he traced one of the blue veins running under her fair skin with his index finger.

“How could I have been so blind?” he asked himself, lifting his eyes from her breasts to her face.

She arched a brow at him. “Did you often frequent ladies who were with child in your youth, Ross?” she quipped.

His cheeks turned ruddy and he gave her nipple a light pinch. She squeaked, feeling the shock of it race to pool between her legs. “What I meant was I’ve seen you nude, Demelza. I’ve held you in my arms, and made love to you all this time. How did this all escape my observation?”

“You’ve been busy with the mine, dearest,” she said, softly. His eyes gleamed warm under the endearment. “And we haven’t been together as often as we have in the past—”

“—I know, I’ve been preoccupied,” he nodded. He looked at her, a touch of regret hooding his gaze. “Forgive me?”

She nodded, smiling. “Yes, of course, Ross,” she said, drawing him down for a kiss. Soon, he shifted his mouth to trace down the side of her neck, his hand cupping her breast with exquisite care before his lips surrounded the nipple. His tongue brushed and swirled luxuriantly while her fingers slipped through his hair and ran around the curve of his ear. She could feel his length, hard and hot, pressed tight against her hip and she squeezed her legs together in response to the rhythmic pulls his mouth made upon her flesh.

His hand moved down her abdomen and froze. He raised his head to look up into her eyes with incredulity before moving back down towards his hand. Demelza moved her left hand to cover his right and gently drew it down to press against the thickening at her waist. She smiled down at his head, his face turned away from hers, fixated on her naked belly. His hand trembled as it drifted across, from one side to the other in a slow, tremulous caress of her skin and the life they had created contained within.

Oh, how she wished she could see his face at this moment. She raised her right hand to touch the crown of his dark head, her hand so fair against the black strands of his hair.

He seemed to come out of the trance-like state he’d been to turn and look at her, his eyes dark and damp with emotion. “Oh, my love,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. He slid back up the mattress to gather her against him in a gentle embrace. Her arms came around to clasp around his back, pulling him closer, her hands clutching his shoulders. He groaned, kissing her with a passion that she hadn’t encountered from him before. Then it struck her: she hadn’t encountered it before that morning: trembling, filled with the essence of the love he’d acknowledged and celebrated and she met it, head on, with her own. She felt a strangled sigh purr from her throat to mingle with his growl of desire. Her nails scored his shoulders and he hissed a breath before returning his mouth to hers. She lifted her leg to circle around his hip, to draw him closer when he broke their kiss, leaning back, a look of alarm crossing his face.

“What is it?” she asked, her arms reaching for him to draw him back to her.

“I don’t…” he started, frowning.

“‘Don’t’ what, Ross?” she asked again, but this time had a feeling she knew what he was going to say.

“I…we…what I mean is,” he said, uncertainty in every word. “Won’t we hurt the child?”

Yes. She had been right. “No, we won’t, Ross,” she murmured, smiling. She laid her hand against his chest and stroked the thick, soft hair she loved so much. “The baby is fine.”

“How do you know that, Demelza?” he asked, levering himself up and away from her until he was lying on his back, staring up at the canopy above their heads. “My God, if I had known earlier this morning I never would have—”

“—Made love to me at Trenwith?” she finished for him. “I’m that glad you did.” She leaned against him, pressing her body against his side and doing her best not to laugh at the shocked look on his face at her insistence. She crossed her arms across his belly and propped her chin on her wrists. “Ross, I have been with child for the past four months and nothing has happened—”

“—So far,” he interrupted. He turned and looked directly into her eyes. The concern and fear she saw in them curbed her humour over the situation and made her realize she needed to proceed with care. She slid up to lie nestled in the crook of his arm.

“Would it ease your mind to know I’ve asked for a little counsel, Ross?” she said, pressing a kiss to his chest near his nipple.

He squirmed. “Who did you ask?”

“I asked Jinny,” Demelza said softly, pressing more kisses along his chest towards his collarbone.

“Jinny Carter?” he nearly yelped. “Our kitchen maid?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Jinny our kitchen maid,” she said in exasperation. She abandoned her kisses and pulled the sheet up to cover her body. “She _is_ a mother, after all, Ross.”

He blinked. “Yes, of course she is,” he said, sounding flustered. “And she knows we’re to have a child before I do?”

Demelza pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. “I had to tell her about the chicken.”

“Chicken?” he asked? “What’s chicken got to do with _any_ of this?”

Demelza looked up at him and her irritation disappeared. The poor man looked completely flummoxed. She smiled. “The smell of chicken made me violently ill in the beginning.” She cocked her head and looked at him, arching her brow. “Haven’t you noticed we’ve not had chicken at our table in months?” He shook his head. “I had to explain to Jinny why I could not tolerate chicken anywhere near me.”

He blinked again and she giggled. “I’ll be damned,” he said, somewhat dazed.

“While we were on the subject of my condition, I asked her a few questions,” Demelza said. She continued before he could speak. “Specifically about intimacies between a man and his wife.” She gave him a sidelong glance. Ross was speechless. She pressed on, despite her desire to laugh once again. “Jinny said it was perfectly fine for a man and a woman to continue joining together as long as there was no pain and no bleeding. And she did say we would have to think of other ways.”

“Other ways?” Ross managed to croak.

“Other than you lying atop me, but you’ve shown me plenty of other ways,” she said simply.

“Did you say as much to Jinny?” Ross spluttered. Demelza looked upon her horror struck husband and could not suppress the giggle that escaped her. He turned and frowned at her. “How on earth am I to look her in the eye again, what with her knowing all and sundry between us, Demelza?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I didn’t tell her everything, Ross! You must think me lacking in…in… oh, what is the word?”

“Tact?” he offered.

“Yes, that’s the word.” She crossed her arms and looked at him. Her frustration and anger fled when she realized he looked about as rattled as a well-coshed fish. She uncrossed her arms and turned to face him, laying her hand against his arm. “Ross, can I say something?”

He nodded dumbly a moment before shaking himself and turning to face her. “Yes, of course you can, Demelza.”

She swallowed. “You’ve told me you love me, for the first time ever.” He nodded and touched her hand, slipped his fingers between hers. She looked down at their linked fingers, his long, strong and tanned despite the winter’s grip on the land. Hers slim and fair, yet stronger than they looked. “I suspect you’ve known how I’ve felt about you for some time.” She flicked a glance up into his eyes and was rewarded with the mossy-green gaze she’d loved for so long. “And I’ve done everything I can think of to make you proud to have married me.”

“You’ve had that part of me for a long time, my dear,” he said softly, lifting her hand to his lips. He brushed the inside of her wrist with a kiss and she felt the tip of his tongue creep out to lick at her pulse point. She felt colour rise up from her chest, up her neck and to her cheeks but focused her attention on his eyes.

“Do you honestly think I would place your child – our child – at risk by doing anything that might cause it harm?” she asked.

He was speechless once again for several beats before he lowered her hand into his lap and covered it with his other, warming her with their heat and stirring her with their strength. He shook his head. “Of course you wouldn’t, my love.” He leaned forward and captured her lips in a gentle kiss.

She leaned back against the pillows, pulling him towards her, down against the feather mattress. “Please make love to me, Ross,” she murmured, slipping her arms around his neck and drawing him next to her. “I would know your hands on my skin and your body in mine after the words we’ve spoken tonight.” She shivered as he pressed his lips against hers, his arms sliding around her to lie next to him, face to face, as they explored one another’s mouths, necks and shoulders with their own. Their breathing deepened, and a moan rose up from her chest and vibrated the air around them. She marvelled at the speed at which they could go from talking to quaking with need; sometimes only mere seconds seemed to pass. His hands slid down to grip her buttocks, lifting her against him and the heat of his length pressed hard against her mound. His hands squeezed and released in time with the movement of his hips against hers while his tongue darted hot and insistent between her lips to stroke hers.

Her hands pressed against his shoulder blades, holding him close, tight against her chest. One of his hands shifted to touch her and she knew he would find her wet, ready for him. He lifted his lips from hers, sliding them along the column of her throat. “I love you so, Demelza,” he whispered against her skin near her ear and her voice caught in her throat.

“I-I love you, Ross.” She sighed the words she’d longed to say to him since the day they married. He kissed her, swallowing the happy tears that fell down her cheeks as she shifted her leg up and over his hip and he found his way into her body. She shivered as he filled her, lying side by side, entwined together.

He broke their kiss, his thumb sweeping over her cheek, wiping away her tears. “Are you all right, love?” he asked, holding himself very still within her.

She nodded. “I’ve wanted to tell you I love you for so long, Ross.” She felt another tear slip from the corner of her eye. He brushed it away and, smiling, flexed his hips against hers and made her sigh the words once more.

They began moving as one, rocking together almost lazily while their hands and their arms found homes at waist, breast, buttock and thigh. They brought their mouths together once again, simulating the motion from below with their tongues. Soon the pace changed, became more urgent. Their kiss was abandoned; cheeks pressed against one another, breath panting in each other’s ears. He captured her lobe between his teeth and gave it a nip. She responded by thrusting hard against his hips and making him grunt in urgent surprise. She leaned back slightly, to look at him, to watch his face as his need for her grew. He stared into her eyes, near black with desire, his nostrils flared as he pulled breath after fevered breath into and out of his body. The skin of his back had grown slick with sweat and her hand slid further down until it reached the crest of his buttocks. His hips flexed heavily under her palm and she dug her nails into the taut then smooth flesh. His eyelids slipped down to partially cover his eyes. His full lips parted, and gasps slipped out from between them, more laboured with each thrust of his body within hers. His own hand gripped her thigh, pulling her hard against him as she felt a shudder course through his entire frame.

“Love… you!” he cried out as he came. Her own breath stopped, once again, in her throat as she joined him. Her womb hardened within her as the first wave of pleasure sent sensation rocketing through her body. It had been this way for her for the last few weeks and had intensified her release. As her body quieted, she opened her eyes to find Ross gazing at her in amazement and she wondered if he’d felt it, too.

They lay, entwined together for some time. Eventually, Demelza shifted her leg from around his hip, breaking their connection, to lie wrapped in his embrace until their breathing returned to normal. They soon shifted again until she lay nestled against his body, her head resting on his left shoulder. His left hand traced designs between her shoulder blades while his right clasped her left to his chest. She sighed contentedly and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Visitations, Restrictions and Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Demelza are expecting their first child. Inspired by the 2015 production of "Poldark" with some references to the original written works by Winston Graham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: the following story is a product of my overactive imagination. I own NONE of this. Wish I did, but I don't. My deepest appreciation and gratitude to Winston Graham, Debbie Horsfield, Aidan Turner, Eleanor Tomlinson and the cast of the show for all of the inspiration I've got from them. I'll do my best to keep true to the characters, I really will. 
> 
> This picks up right where I left off in [Six Months: Journey to Love](http://archiveofourown.org/series/340453). More notes at the end. I hope you enjoy.

Ross shivered in the master bedchamber at Nampara. The air was cold; the fire had gone out at some point in the night. He made an annoyed sound at the back of his throat and burrowed deeper under the blankets. He just wanted a few more moments before he rose to start it once again. Suddenly, he felt the tip of his wife’s chilly nose pressing against his back between his shoulder blades.

“Damn!” he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. He arched his back away from her nose for a beat before relaxing.

“Ross,” she breathed, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. She snuggled into him and slipped her hands around his waist. They were like ice. He covered her hands with his own, pulling them tighter around his waist to his stomach. He loved the touch of her hands, even as cold as they were, against his chest and belly and knew she liked the feel of the soft, black hair that covered them.

She tentatively made to move her hands further down. He stopped her immediately. “Not an inch lower with those icy paws of yours, my love.” He turned to face her and pulled her into his embrace. Her hands slid around his back and she lifted her face as he lowered his, meeting her lips to his own hungry mouth. The cold of the room was forgotten as he rose, hard and insistent, against her mound. His hands moved down her back to the crest of her buttocks, pulling her against him. He knew if he were to reach between her legs she would be growing slick and swollen for him. It made his heart race and he groaned into her mouth.

He shifted them, sliding down to take her nipple into his mouth. She gasped, bringing her hands up to his head. Her nails scraped against his scalp and his entire body shivered in response. His mouth was avid on her breast, hands squeezing and caressing her buttocks. He moaned against her skin, pressing her back against the mattress and slid his knee between hers.

He froze. She opened her passion-drowsy eyes to search his face then rolled onto her side, facing away from him. “Ross, please. The baby will be fine, please I need you.” She arched her hips back against him, hard. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, his length, painfully erect, nestled in the cleft of her buttocks and he groaned. He reached down, grasping his cock as she arched her back and shifted her leg to grant him access to her slick folds. He surged forward, moaning as her damp warmth enveloped him. Her right hand reached for him, finding his right hip to pull him tight against her. He thrust against her, the tightness of her body stroking him as their movements quickened.

He’d not last long this morning, his need for her too great. He slid his hand around to flick at the bud between her thighs. “Come for me, love,” he rasped against the back of her neck. She bucked back against him, soft breathy sounds coming from her throat as she panted his name. She grasped his hand away from her bud and pressed it hard against her lower belly. Her body tightened around him as she cried out her release. Suddenly, he felt her belly harden against his palm as she continued her shuddering release. He had no time to react, his own end clawing at his lower back and inner thighs. He closed his eyes, thrusting a final time within her. “Demelza,” he gasped against the nape of her neck as he emptied himself into her, his hips jerking in time with the pulses of her body against his.

Their breathing sounded harsh in the silence as they lay, spooned together, bodies still joined, although the connection grew more precarious as the minutes ticked by. In the end, she turned onto her back to stare up at him. Ross’s hand remained on her slightly rounded lower belly and he rubbed his thumb against the taut skin just under her navel.

“What is that?” he managed to croak. “Your belly? Is that—”

“—Yes,” she breathed. She smiled, her eyes still misty and unfocused from their lovemaking. She pressed her hand against his. “It’s my womb, Ross.” His hand reflexively cupped the hardened roundness cradling his growing child, held safe within her and he felt his throat close with emotion. “It started happening a few weeks ago. Ross, isn’t it wonderful?”

Wonderful was not the word that came to his mind at the moment. Frankly, the only thing on his mind at _that_ particular moment was oblivion’s silken embrace, found within her body. But once he had a chance to absorb what happened, he found himself at sea. Shock? Fear? Elation? All battled for supremacy within him in this moment, and none found a firm foothold. Did he clamber for answers to calm his concerns or should he trust that she was certain about what she’d learned? He looked at her, the hair framing her face damp with sweat, eyes radiant with love and amazement and he swallowed.

Had he ever loved her more than he did at this moment? He didn’t think so. He kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and throwing his cares, worries and concerns into the wind. For now.

An hour later and they were dressed and seated at the parlour table to break their fast. They were enjoying a hearty meal of eggs and ham when Prudie came in from the front yard. “Miss Verity is here, sir,” she said.

“Thank you, Prudie,” Ross said, frowning. He looked at Demelza, who shook her head. He rose and turned towards the door as he heard the soft click of heels on the flagstones. “Good morning, cousin!” He walked over to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “What brings you over so early today?”

She smiled. “I am sorry for interrupting your breakfast!” she said apologetically. “I was out riding and found my way near Nampara. I should have sent word for a later visit.”

Demelza rose from her seat and hurried over to Verity. “I am that glad to see you, Verity! Please join us.”

She did, after a bit of convincing, and was soon engaged in boisterous conversation about their respective Christmas days. “We received word about the mine, Ross,” Verity said as she sipped her coffee. “The very best of news!”

He nodded. “It was a very good day, to be sure, Verity.” He smiled at Demelza. “We have grander news of our own.”

“Really?” Verity asked, her eyes sparkling.

“We are to welcome a child in June,” he said warmly, reaching for Demelza’s hand and raising it to his lips.

“Oh!” she said, clapping her hands and turning to look at Demelza. “I’m so very glad you shared the news with him at last!” Verity exclaimed. “Such a wonderful Christmas gift to bestow, dear cousin!”

His smile faltered. He could see Demelza pale slightly and he caught himself. “She has indeed,” he said, giving his wife’s fingers a squeeze. “The very best gift of all.” He felt her fingers tremble against his and sent her a half-hearted smile in the hopes that it would calm her concerns. There would be time enough to speak about this once Verity left.

She did leave about an hour later. Demelza silently moved about the parlour, clearing away dishes, and kept her eyes away from his own. He finally stopped her before she cleared away the coffee, his grip light, but firm on her arm. “My dear, I think there is something we need to discuss.” She nodded. “I suggest we go to the library.” She nodded again, setting the coffee pot down. “Prudie,” Ross called out to the kitchen. Prudie’s head appeared in the doorway. “Please clear the rest of this, thank you.” She nodded.

Ross grasped Demelza’s elbow and led her from the room and into the library. He closed the door behind them and turned to look at her. “Demelza, I understand why you needed to share the news of our impending arrival with Jinny; for the purposes of tending to us in our home and for other, more personal reasons. For which, I am grateful.” Demelza raised her eyes to his, her cheeks flaming. “But why is my _maiden_ cousin, who – because she _is_ a maid – bears no knowledge of what is to come for you, not to mention what occurs between us, aware that we are to welcome our first child into the world in five months’ time, before your own husband?”

She sat down on the stool next to the fire and cradled her face in her hands. He prayed she was not crying, for he could not bear it when she cried.

He closed his eyes at her first sob. “Demelza,” he said hoarsely. He walked over to where she sat and pulled her up into his arms. He held her, slowly rocking back and forth while his hand stroked the curling hair that covered her back until her breathing returned to normal. He tilted back to see her and found her doing what she always did when she cried: holding her hands over her face. The corner of his mouth twitched at the sight but he managed to conceal any hint of humour from his voice. “Demelza, sit with me by the fire, will you?”

She nodded, face still hidden behind her hands. He walked them over to the armchair and he sat down, drawing her onto his knee. He removed the handkerchief from his pocket, pulled her closer against him and handed it to her. He turned his face towards the fire as she softly blew her nose and tended to her face.

“I’m sorry, Ross,” she said, her voice strained from her tears.

He turned to look at her. He tipped her chin up with his fingertip and lifted his hand to cup her cheek, brushing away the tears that slipped through her long lashes with the pad of his thumb. “Help me understand, my dear?”

She nodded, opening her eyes. They were the light green of spring leaves and shimmered with unshed tears. “I had to tell Verity because… well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

He kissed her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. Tell me.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder and shakily sighed. “Well, if I did the numbers right, I think the child was conceived the night Verity arrived here. I don’t know if you remember what happened, but I was asking you about Captain Blamey and—”

“—I asked you what you knew of love,” he said softly, smiling as memories of that night flickered through his mind. “Yes, I do remember.” He looked at her and was pleased to see a blush grace her cheeks and a smile curve her red lips. He reached for the hand she held still in her lap, the handkerchief clenched in her fingers. He tugged the cloth free and slipped her hand in his. Their fingers twined together and he brushed his thumb against hers.

She took another deep breath and held his gaze with hers. “I’d told Verity that I loved you that day. It was the first time I’d admitted it to anyone, other than myself. I really didn’t have anyone to confide in like that anymore.” She looked down at their linked hands. “I mean, Jinny and I were close once, but things changed after she first came to work for us. It’s better now… since we talked about the baby, but before that…” Her voice trailed off. She raised her head to look at him once more, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. On most occasions, the gesture was known to rouse him, but today, it signalled insecurity, something he hadn’t seen in her since they’d returned home from Trenwith.

Ross nodded, his brow furrowing. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Of what?” she said, frowning.

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but now that he had, he figured it best to address it. “Of how your change in status would affect the friendships you’ve made here since you came to Nampara.” It was true: those in the village, in town, all were required to see her now as Mistress Poldark rather than Demelza, the girl who had served him. He felt terribly remiss in overlooking this situation for the last six months. “Forgive me for this oversight, my dear.” He lifted her hand to his lips before looking into her sea-green eyes. “I was too busy thinking of myself and the delights your change in status had brought _me_.”

She gave him a shaky grin and cocked her head, shifting to face him. “I believe we’ve established that neither of us are complaining about that.” He laughed, relieved to see her humour returning. He drew her head close and kissed her, deeply enough to make her sigh against his mouth and squirm on his lap. His body responded, rising uncomfortably in his breeches. She leaned back, eyes widening. “Master Poldark,” she whispered in mock outrage before her fingertips brushed against his chest. They trailed down towards his belly, whose muscles jumped under her fingertips. “Do you want to hear the rest of this story or shall I continue?” She squirmed against him once again.

He groaned, caught her hand and brought it back up to his chest. “Please sit still and continue the story, my dear.”

She nodded. “By the time I suspected I was with child she’d become like a sister to me. It was natural to confide in her about the baby. After all, she’d helped me understand you a little better and how to be the kind of woman you deserve to have as your wife.”

“You’ve always been the kind of woman I deserve, my dear,” he said softly. Of course she would wish to confide this new and life-changing event to someone and really, who better than Verity?

She blushed prettily and he kissed her cheek. “Oh, Ross.”

He wished to do more than kiss her cheek but figured someone had better be reasonable. His kissed the tip of her nose instead. “Thank you for telling me, Demelza.”

 

Four days passed in relative quiet. Ross walked into the yard from the lower pasture for dinner. He and Jud had finished cutting up a fallen tree near the stone wall at the edge of the property and loaded it in the cart to take to the house for firewood. It was the kind of sweaty, physical work he well needed to help keep his mind occupied.

He still could not get over the fact he was going to be a father in five months. To a daughter, if Demelza had anything to say about it. She told him she was convinced the babe would be a girl the morning after she’d given him the news. He chuckled and told her it would be impossible to know until the child was here, but he finally relented to her referring to the baby as a girl after enduring a full day of silence and pouting.

As far as he was concerned, he could care less if it were a girl or a boy, just as long as it was healthy and their mother came through her ordeal healthy. He thought upon this and felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed the bitter taste then spat on the ground. Nampara had been a working farm for Ross’s entire life. As such, he’d seen all manner of livestock brought into this world, and was – as a result – well aware of the mechanics. What troubled him was the application of what he knew to what his Demelza would go through. _That_ made him weak at the knees. If there was one thing he was worried about it was how she would manage the birth. He’d heard enough stories of women who died in childbirth or in the days following from fever. The prospect of her in such pain and distress, and the fear that all of it could result in his losing her, as well as their child, filled him with dread.

It didn’t mean he wanted to know everything there was to know about what was to come. There were aspects about Demelza’s pregnancy he had no interest in learning too much about. He remembered the first conversation he attempted to have with her about her flux all those months ago and felt his cheeks redden. But he wanted a clearer understanding of what she should and, more importantly, should NOT be doing from someone more knowledgeable than his kitchen maid.

He scraped the mud off his boots before opening the door to the house. The warmth from the hearth inside began to take the chill off his bones and his mind as he strode into the parlour. He looked up and was surprised to find Demelza taking tea in the parlour with Mrs Zacky Martin. His wife smiled brightly at him as he entered the room and he tipped his hat to her, somewhat playfully, in response. He shook himself, for he wasn’t prone to playful gestures with her in front of guests, and figured he still must be a little dazed by the news of his impending fatherhood.

“Cap’n Ross, sir,” Mrs Zacky said to him, her warm voice always so soothing, from as far back as he could remember. “I hear congratulations are in order.” She smiled and stood up from the settee before he could wave a hand for her to stay seated. “I’m sure my Zacky’s already given you his well wishes. Please accept my heartfelt good wishes to you and the mistress, sir.”

“We are most thankful, Mrs Zacky,” Ross said smiling, his cheeks reddening over the memory of the ribbing he received from Zacky, Paul and Mark when they learned the news three days before. His three best friends were of rough mining stock and the ribald jesting that had rung through the mine office still made the tips of his ears hot in remembrance. He hoped Demelza would never hear of it, for if she thought he was embarrassed by her sharing the scantest of details with their kitchen maid, she would have been mortified to hear some of the questions about his virility that bounced off the walls that day.

_“We were wonderin’ what was takin’ you so long to put a bun in the oven, Ross!”_

_“We knowed it ‘twernt from lack of tryin’, ye lookin’ to be as contented as ye are!”_

He returned his gaze to their guest and hoped his face had returned to its regular hue. “What brings you to Nampara today, Mrs Zacky?”

Demelza grinned up at him. “Mrs Zacky came with some patterns she made for clothes for the little one.” Her hand motioned over to the parlour table where several pieces of linen were folded. “I can start to work on piecing together some items so that she will have plenty of clothes to wear when she arrives.”

He smiled and put up his hat and greatcoat before arching a brow at Mrs Zacky. “I suppose she told you we are to expect a daughter, Mrs Zacky?”

Mrs Zacky beamed at them both. “She certainly did, Cap’n Ross, sir,” she said with a nod.

“Is there any way to know?” he asked, walking over to the hearth to pick up his pipe. He ignored the look of outrage coming from Demelza and proceeded to stuff the pipe with tobacco.

“Well, I’ve heard dry hands and cold feet mean a boy is due,” she mused. Ross looked pointedly at his wife, for her feet where always like ice. “Then there’s one which calls for dangling her wedding ring over her stomach on a string. If it moves in a circle it’s a girl, a straight line means a boy. Blemished skin means a girl, salt cravings a boy…” She continued with tale after tale until Ross, whose eyebrows had steadily crept up his forehead with each tale, raised a hand to stop her.

“That many, you say?” he said, blinking in amazement. “I think we’ll wait and see.” He smirked at Demelza who slid him a sidelong glance.

Mrs Zacky grinned at them both and set down her tea. “Now, if you will excuse me, Cap’n Ross, sir, I need to head back to our cottage and tend to wee Kate for Jinny.” She turned to look at Demelza. “Thank you for the tea, ma’am. You let me know if you wish to tal…er… I mean if you need anything.”

Ross caught Demelza attempting to give a small, surreptitious headshake at Mrs Zacky out of the corner of his eye but lowered his lashes to hide his surprise. “Thank you, Mrs Zacky! I’ll come down to visit with you soon.” Mrs Zacky bobbed a curtsey to both Ross and Demelza before walking out the door. Demelza walked over to Ross and he couldn’t help but grin at her. She looked very pretty today with her hair tied up with a new ribbon she received from Verity for Christmas.

“Good afternoon, my love,” he murmured, taking her into his arms and giving her the kiss he’d wanted to share with her upon his arrival home. She sighed against his mouth and ran her hands along his waist. The door from the kitchen opened and they stepped apart, Ross rubbing his forefinger along his chin while she blushed and hurried over to the table to pick up the pattern pieces.

“Hello, Cap’n Ross, sir,” Jinny said, bearing a large pie in front of her. “We’ve fish pie today and baked apples for your sweet.” She set the pie down while Demelza set the table.

Within minutes, he had a mug of ale in one hand and a forkful of pie in the other, listening to Demelza chatter away about the morning. He managed to time his swallow with her intake of breath and dove in. “What was Mrs Zacky doing here, my dear,” he said, looking at his wife through his lashes.

She stopped. “I told you, Ross, she were here to bring me the patterns,” Demelza said, somewhat defensively.

He gave a little snort as he chuckled and shook his head. “My dear, it is a good thing that ladies do not play poker for you would not have the face to make it through your first hand,” he said, spearing another piece of pie on his fork and putting it into his mouth. He chewed luxuriously. Jinny may have made it, but she obviously used Demelza’s receipt and he was glad of it. “It is clear she was primarily here for you to talk with.” He speared another piece of pie with his fork, looked at her and smiled. He hoped he hadn’t teased her too much. “What did you two talk about, love?”

“Oh, Ross, can’t I have any secrets from you?” He shifted his head so he was looking directly at her, brows raised. She stomped a slipper-shod foot on the flagstones and glowered at him. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch with amusement. “Well, if you must know,” she muttered, slanting a glance at him, “I asked her if she would tend to me when my time comes.”

Ross’s fork froze midway between his plate and his mouth. “Isn’t it early to be worried about that, my dear?” He hoped it was. Rather, he found himself praying that it was.

“Yes, a little, but it will ease my mind a bit, knowing that she’ll be with me that day and, should I have any questions or concerns along the way, I can talk with her.”

He set his fork down. “What kind of questions or concerns, Demelza?”

She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “You see, this is why I didn’t want to bring this up, Ross.” She reached out to touch his hand. “There will be many questions and concerns that I might have over the next five months, dearest, most of which you won’t have any desire to know about.”

“Demel—” he said but stopped when she squeezed his hand. Something in her eyes told him it was time to let her finish. “I’m sorry, dear, go on.”

She nodded. “I was near to my ma when she was carrying my brothers,” she said softly, rubbing her thumb across his hand. “Most of what I noticed I saw through a child’s eyes. So I remember the things she did when she was carrying. But I’ve no notion of some of the things she wouldn’t have shared with me because I _was_ a child.” She looked down at the hand she held on his. He turned it over so that it lay palm-side up in invitation. She slipped her fingers between his and gave his hand a little squeeze. “I should like to have someone I can go to who I can ask, someone like my ma.” She looked back up at him and smiled.

Understanding dawned for him. She was seeking a surrogate mother to help her through this time. He could not very well deny her this, and if there was anyone he would recommend for her to seek out to fill this role it would have been Mrs Zacky. The Martins had always been very loyal and trustworthy in their friendship with the Poldarks. Mrs Zacky could be trusted to be discreet about whatever Demelza wished to discuss with her, even if it touched on their intimate relationship (which he devoutly hoped would be at the minimum). Finally, this might also help address some of the concerns he himself had about her condition and had spent the better portion of his morning brooding over.

 _Interesting_ , he thought to himself, _how our minds seemed to operate in simpatico with one another._ He set his fork down and nodded, leaving his seat at the head of the table. He slid along the bench to reach her and brush her cheek with his lips. “Very well, my dear,” he said. “I’ll try not to be too insufferable.”

She grinned and raised her hand to his cheek. Her thumb brushed his scar and he warmed under her touch. He leaned forward and kissed her. She tasted of pie and ale and the sweetness that was his Demelza. He drew away from her, reluctantly, and returned to his seat and to his plate.

“I did ask her a bit more about intimacies, Ross,” she said just as he took a bite of his pie. He sucked in air at the same time and spent the next few moments coughing. He poured himself another cup of ale, swallowing half of it to clear his throat. “Not that I had any doubt about what Jinny said, and she was right – confirmed that with Mrs Zacky; she’s had several children, so she has more experience.”

He nodded, not certain of his voice yet.

“She also told me a bit more around the kinds of things I should and should not try to do,” she continued. “I should be careful about riding Rose at anything over a canter.”

Ross stopped chewing. “A canter,” he mumbled around a cheek full of pie. She nodded. He swallowed very carefully and set his fork down. “Demelza, you are not to ride Rose at anything beyond a walk. If _that_ , now that I think about it.”

“But Ros—” she started.

“—A _walk_ ,” he said, more shortly than he meant to. Her face paled slightly and he reached out to touch her hand. “Demelza, it’s not because I don’t think you are a good enough rider to manage her. Rose has proven to be a very gentle-natured horse and I’m well pleased with how you are with her.” He stopped, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand. “I love watching you ride, love.” She blushed at that, making him realize how that must have sounded. “What I mean is, you’ve a good seat—”

She burst out laughing. He followed suit and it took the two of them several moments before either regained their composure. His smile faded, but the underlying humour and companionship remained in his voice. “What I mean to say is, your ability as a horsewoman is not what concerns me. It is all of the little things one can’t control when riding that could very well harm you. It would be a thrown shoe at the wrong time or a rabbit darting out in the path. Any of these things can startle even the most gentle of horses and cause them to rear, to spook, and you could be thrown.” He paused, once again brushing his thumb across her hand. “Do you understand, my dear?”

She nodded, and the sadness that furrowed her brow made him want to take her into his arms and hold her. So he rose from his seat to join her on the bench once again and slipped his arm around her shoulder. She looked up at him. “So I’m not to go into town until after the baby is born?” she whispered. He could hear the edge of tears in her throat.

“We can take the cart if we need to,” he offered.

She crossed her arms. “I swear that thing is more life threatening than a horse ever would be,” she huffed.

He smiled. “A compromise, then? I will accompany you if you do need to go to town for something that absolutely requires your presence, and we will _both_ walk the horses. Or you could ride with me on Darkie.” She gave his thigh a squeeze, which he felt in every inch of his body. He gave her a glance out of the corner of his eye. “Otherwise, provide me a list of whatever you need and I will make certain you get it. Agreed?”

She nodded. “Thank you, Ross.” She kissed him on the cheek. He grinned down at her and, giving her a wink, moved his cup of ale and bowl of baked apple from his place setting to where he now sat next to her.

They ate, shoulder to shoulder, in silence for a few moments. He took another spoonful of the apple and chewed, enjoying the sweetness of the treat. “What else did Mrs Zacky have to say about restrictions, my dear?”

Demelza dipped her spoon in Ross’s bowl for a spoonful of the sweet. She shook her head. “Other than horseback riding, she said there were no other restrictions from daily work.”

Ross’s spoon clacked down hard into the bowl. “No restrictions for your daily work, Demelza?” he said, staring at her incredulously. “None?”

“Other than lifting very heavy items, no, Ross,” Demelza said, taking a sip of tea to wash down the bite of apple she chewed. “My own mother continued with most everything she had to do while she was carrying, and that was with a number of us already clinging to her skirts. Mrs Zacky told me to have a care with wet baskets of laundry, because they are heavier than they look, and firewood and the like. But I should be fine with most else.”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it down on the table. “Can you answer a question for me?” he asked. A thought had occurred to him that had wormed its way into his craw. “I seem to recall you were overtired during most of the autumn.” He looked at her and noticed she was not meeting his eye. “Was that one of your early complaints?” He nodded, not waiting for her response. “The naps, the early retiring to our bedchamber, it all makes sense now.”

She blew out a breath of frustration. “Ross, being tired is common for women early when they are carrying,” she said, frowning mulishly at him. “I do remember my mother had troubles with this. Even then it didn’t stop her from taking care of us little ones and the house and such. Jinny and Mrs Zacky confirmed it for me as well.” She stopped and picked up her tea. “Now that I’m further along I’m not as tired as I was. I’m not queasy anymore. I feel _very_ well!”

He looked at her, still uneasy but at a loss at what else he could do but accept what she said at face value. “You must take care of yourself, Demelza. I insist on this.”

“Of course I will, Ross, but it doesn’t mean I have to lock myself away for the next five months, does it?” She glanced at him and started, setting her teacup down with a clatter. “That’s _exactly_ what you mean, isn’t it?”

He was a fool to tease her about her poker face since based on her response he had to figure his own had abandoned him. “Well, I—”

“—You mean for me to stay indoors, not do much of anything except sew and recline, drink restoratives and lay about in bed, isn’t it?” she said, colour blazing in her cheeks. She glared at him, nostrils flaring. “I’m not a delicate flower, Ross! I am perfectly capable of continuing with my work about the home and my rambles. I’ve been doing that for the past four months! If my mother could do it with five of us scrabbling around her heels with a sixth one in her belly, then so can I!”

The slim rein of control he had on his own temper frayed and snapped. “Dammit, Demelza!” he barked. “All I am asking is for you to take your ease and have a care, as my wife.” She looked oppressed and defiant. He took a deep breath and continued. “My dear, I recognize that your mother must have been a wonder to care for all of you and her household with as little as she had. I expect my wife to have an easier life than what your mother had to endure,” he murmured. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “And I say that meaning no disrespect to your mother’s memory, my love.”

Some of the temper seemed to fade from her very fine eyes, only to be replaced with tears. She clenched a fist and brought it down on her knee. “Ross, I cannot simply lie about this house and do nothing.” She looked at him. “Do _you_ want to speak with Mrs Zacky about this? I’m sure she would not mind, if that will help to ease some of your worries.”

Ross shook his head violently, feeling the blood leave his face at the prospect of _his_ having this conversation with Mrs Zacky. He would have to trust what Demelza said was true. “No, my dear, I’m sorry. I did not mean to make you cry.”

She waved a hand at him. “It’s not your fault, Ross. ‘Tis another thing to look forward to: flashes of temper and tears.”

“Oh,” he said, trying not to sound too relieved.

She gave him a watery smile. “I promise I will take things easier, Ross.”

“And you are to alert me to any serious discomforts and concerns you may have?” he added, knowing full well she’d conceal everything for as long as she could; the little minx.

She nodded.

Twenty minutes later, Ross walked through the door to the library and headed over to his desk. He sat down and leaned back in his chair. So, Demelza had confided in Jinny, Verity and now Mrs Zacky about the baby and he was honest that he had no issues with this.

Now. For the most part.

But who could _he_ turn to? He thought of Dr Choake and shuddered, wishing there were other options available for him to contact for assistance. He paused, an idea striking him. He slipped a piece of parchment from the stack on his desk and selected a fresh quill. Twenty minutes later, he leaned back and re-read his letter.

> _Dear Dwight,_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you well. Your recent correspondence regarding your wish to study mine diseases in May when you finish your residency in London was most intriguing and serendipitous as well in that I find myself in need of a physician I can trust with my life. As it so happens, you have proven to be such a man, in the very literal sense._
> 
> _I was married six months ago to a lovely young woman who has just informed me we will welcome our first child this coming June. I find myself at turns elated beyond my imaginings and terrified, sometimes all at once. The gentleman, who the people of our community turn to for medical assistance is – to be blunt – not schooled in modern medical practices and is the very last person I wish to care for my Demelza at the birth or during her confinement. In addition to this, this gentleman is also the very last person I wish to turn to for any advice that can be offered an anxious father-to-be during these last five months of waiting._
> 
> _It would be my pleasure to have you come to our small corner of Cornwall. Please let me know if the enclosed proposal meets with your satisfaction as soon as you are able. I shall look forward to hearing from you soon._
> 
> _I remain, Your friend,_
> 
> _Ross V Poldark, esq._

He grinned, shook sand on the parchment, folded and sealed it. “Jud!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 2 Notes: Many thanks to those of you who have offered your kudos and comments on the prologue! It may feel like we're going at a snail's pace but things will be picking up soon. I don't anticipate this will be longer than 10 chapters, but you never know. Extra points for those of you who guessed Ross would be reaching out for some assistance from a doctor friend of his. More of that to come. 
> 
> My deepest appreciation to my friend and beta, Jackie and the support from xxsparksxx and rainpuddle13 for their support. Finally, got an assist from a friend on twitter on some of the horseback riding intel. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the gaits of a horse, there are four natural ones, in order of progression: walk, trot, canter, gallop. Thank you @BluZar for the assist! 
> 
> Find me on twitter @mmmusings and tumbler @mmmuses. I've also started a Poldark book blog on tumblr @ poldarkmmmuses which lets me vent all the feels over the novels. Just note: SPOILERS for the series, so enter at your own risk. 
> 
> Enjoy! Chapter two still needs to be drafted and I'm coming to the end of my holiday break so back to work means less time for writing. I'll do the best I can to get something ready for beta reading before the weekend is over. Keep your fingers crossed and thanks so much for your support!


	3. To Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Demelza are expecting their first child. Inspired by the 2015 production of "Poldark" with some references to the original written works by Winston Graham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: the following story is a product of my overactive imagination. I own NONE of this. Wish I did, but I don't. My deepest appreciation and gratitude to Winston Graham, Debbie Horsfield, Aidan Turner, Eleanor Tomlinson and the cast of the show for all of the inspiration I've got from them. I'll do my best to keep true to the characters, I really will. 
> 
> This picks up right where I left off in [Six Months: Journey to Love](http://archiveofourown.org/series/340453). More notes at the end. I hope you enjoy.

> 1 February 1788
> 
> Dear Ross,
> 
> I cannot tell you how delighted I was to receive your letter. May I first offer you my heartfelt congratulations on your marriage and impending fatherhood. I look forward to meeting your wife as I am very happy to accept your proposal to work with you in Cornwall this spring. I complete my studies towards the end of March and will be on the first coach heading in your direction as soon as the ink is dry on my papers.
> 
> With regard to your request for advice, I am happy oblige you. Please feel free to ask me whatever concerns you and I will do my best to assuage them for you.
> 
> I shall look forward to hearing from you again. Until such time, I remain,
> 
> Your friend, Dwight Enys

Ross grinned as he finished the letter. It was the best news he could have hoped for. He had met Dwight under the worst of circumstances: a bloodstained bed in a field hospital outside Jamestown, Virginia. He remembered waking up, his vision tinged red with his own blood, a searing pain in his ankle. He had sustained serious injuries, including a bullet in his ankle and a long gash down the left side of his face from a bayonet. The stitches required to close the wound were many, several coming dangerously close to Ross’s hazel eye. He’d felt terror in those moments as his head was held still and a needle was slipped in and out, just on the edge of his sight. He damned himself for getting into such serious mischief as to land him in the army, for leaving Elizabeth… for so many things. Dwight’s calm face and manner had been precisely what the young captain needed at that time. Once he’d healed sufficiently to return home, Ross continued to keep in touch with the young doctor who saved his life and was now grateful he had.

Ross glanced up from the letter, his eyes seeking and finding what they were looking for. Demelza sat in a chair near the fire, a pile of cut pattern pieces in the basket near her feet. She’d begun working on baby clothes almost as soon as Mrs Zacky had left them. After their conversation, of course; the one that appeared to have had no impact on Demelza’s actions. Ross swallowed reflexively when he thought of what happened a mere fortnight afterwards.

_He was leaving Truro in fine spirits when he mounted Darkie and turned towards Nampara. An hour later, he was livid._

_“What do you mean she’s up in our bedchamber?” Ross hissed at Prudie._

_Prudie flinched. “She were up in the hayloft, Cap’n Ross, sir, when she took to feeling a bit dizzy. Jud were able to bring her down without any trouble so’s Jinny and me took ‘er up to lie down.”_

_Ross stormed out of the parlour. Fear and fury threatened the brandy in his stomach to rise in his throat as he climbed the stairs two at a time. He flung open the door. Demelza shrieked from her place in the armchair near the fire and looked up at him with guilty eyes. “Demelza?”_

_She held up her hand. “Before you say an—”_

_“—The hayloft?!” he bellowed, wrenching off his coat and slamming the door. “How many times have I told you not to go up those stairs?”_

_“I’ve lost count, Ross,” she said meekly, lowering her mending._

_“And that was before you were carrying our child!” he thundered, thumbing down the buttons closing his waistcoat. He flung it from his shoulders and knelt down in front of her, his hands reaching for hers. His worry for her made him grip her fingers hard enough for her to wince. He raised them to his lips and kissed them before returning his gaze to hers. “If this is your way of assuring me that you will have a care for yourself until the child is born, trust me ma’am, it has failed miserably.”_

_He was somewhat mollified to see that she appeared to be very contrite. If she’d tried to wave this off as non-consequential, he wasn’t certain what he would have done. “Rose needed more hay, Ross, and I couldn’t untie the bales—”_

_“—Then you call for Jud to do that, Demelza!” he said, exasperation making his voice quake. “Did you, at least, try to do that before you went up those stairs?”_

_“Of course I tried,” she snapped, and his eyes narrowed a bit with her tone. She must have seen something flare in his eyes, for she swallowed, sighed and continued more warily. “I tried several times but then I lost patience. He arrived just as I reached the top.”_

_Ross’s blood boiled with anger towards Paynter. His hands released hers and fisted in her lap. He counted to ten before raising his eyes to meet hers. “The only thing saving him from being horsewhipped and thrown off this property is that he was able to get you down from there.” He unclenched his fist to raise a hand to her face. “Promise me, Demelza, that you will not do something as reckless again or I swear to God I will lock you in this house until our child is born.”_

_She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “I promise, Ross.”_

_He hauled her up to her feet and into his arms, kissing her with all the fury, fear, passion and love that filled him in that moment before releasing her mouth. He pressed kisses along her hairline and cheeks, tasting the salt of the tears that fell as she sobbed. He leaned back to brush his thumbs along her high cheekbones. “Please don’t cry, my love.”_

_She hiccupped and stepped closer to him, pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck, only to cry harder against his chest. Panic began to seep into the corners of his mind as he held her tight against him, rocking her back and forth while murmuring her name in her ear._

_Moments later, her sobbing diminished. He leaned back, his thumbs brushing away the tears from her red-rimmed eyes. “I would imagine all my bellowing has done nothing to calm you, am I right, my dear?”_

_She nodded, a tremulous smile appearing on her face, even as more tears fell. He kissed her again. “I’m sorry, Demelza.”_

_She sighed brokenly. “I know I scared you, Ross.” She looked up at him. “I scared myself a little, too.”_

_He laughed, although to his ears it sounded more like a wheeze. He pressed his forehead to hers. “June, you say?”_

_“Thereabouts, Ross,” she said, her voice choked, breathless with her tears._

_“’Tis a long way off, my love,” he murmured, and tenderly wrapped her in his arms._

She’d been much more careful after that incident, thank the lord. He didn’t think his heart could take anymore.

He took a sip of his brandy and turned his thoughts towards the mine and the upcoming copper auction. It was scheduled for the end of the week. Wheal Leisure would have close to eighty tons of copper to put forward. He smiled broadly at that. He only hoped the price of copper was high enough to make the work worth it. It would be good to walk away with a bit of profit.

He glanced back up at Demelza, now humming a tune as she worked. A thought occurred to him. He rose from the desk and walked over to where she sat. He touched her hair. She wore it up, loosely bound in one of the ribbons he’d given her so many months ago. She tilted her head back against his hand, raising her bright green eyes to his. “Demelza,” he said softly, winding a curl around his finger before he shook himself. He almost forgot what he was going to say! “Dearest, would you like to go into town with me later this week?”

She turned in her seat, her needlework forgotten. “Oh Ross, can I?” she said, happiness making her eyes sparkle with joy.

Smitten. He was completely smitten. “Well yes, of course, since I was the one who suggested it.” He sat down on the stool next to her. “You mentioned the other day you had a need for more fabrics and other items for the child.”

“Yes,” she said gaily. “I’ve done what I can with some of the fabric I found in the trunk in the library, but I need some other material for clouts and blankets and the like.”

He nodded and took hold of her hand. “The copper auction is on Thursday. I thought you could come with me and tend to whatever shopping you need to do while I attend to business. We could stay over, and then return the following morning.”

She furrowed her brow. “Stay overnight, Ross? ‘Tis only an hour between here and Truro.”

He arched his brow and gave her hand a squeeze. “An hour if you are riding at a gallop, my dear,” he said. He raised her hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “We will be walking so it will be closer to two, if not more. And I feel it would be good for you to have a restful night’s sleep after all of that activity.”

She sighed. “You are probably right about that, Ross. It will be the most excitement I’ve had in a while.”

“So, we are agreed?” he asked. She nodded, yawned and stretched, catlike, her arms raised over her head. Ross couldn’t help watching the way her breasts strained against the fabric of her shift. He was reaching for her waist when there was the sound of fabric rending. She stopped abruptly. Ross looked up at her as her eyes snapped open and caught his. “What on earth was that?” he asked, perplexed.

She looked to her right side and lowered her hand to the torn seam along the side of her waist. He laughed, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Perhaps some new garments for you as well?”

She blushed crimson.

 

Ross woke early the morning of the auction. More accurately, he was awoken by the curious hands of his wife. They were, at present, sliding down his stomach towards his groin where they would encounter the part of him that had become alert to her attentions a few seconds before his consciousness had.

Ross and Demelza shared a very active and inventive intimate life together, ever since she first seduced him in May 1787. It hadn’t required a great deal for him to succumb to her, if truth be told. He’d circled around the idea of taking her to bed for months, but had held himself from doing so through sheer brute force. Once they laid together, however, he knew he would never have enough of her, would have sought her out time and again until they were discovered or, worse, she would become with child. So he married her, despite the fact that he didn’t love her. Over the next several months, his feelings changed, expanded and transformed under her love and support, humour and companionship. When it came to the nature of physical lovemaking, he taught her everything he knew or ever heard of and she was more than eager to learn. Little did he realize she would employ every lesson she was taught to nearly bring him to his knees in the weeks following the announcement of their child’s arrival.

Although her unbridled enthusiasm was unexpected, particularly considering her condition, he thanked God for it every single day.

He groaned as her hands stroked him to fullness and he turned onto his back. He opened his eyes to find her shoving the bedclothes past his hips, her red-gold hair trailing over his chest as her head moved dow—

“Judas God,” he moaned aloud as her mouth closed over him. She purred her contentment, glancing up at him through her lashes.

She raised her lips from his cock and smiled. “Good morning husband,” she murmured, blowing lightly against him. Her breath against his damp skin raised goose flesh along his thighs and stomach. “You taste like me,” she all but hummed against his shaft before her mouth closed over him again.

It took everything within him not to grip her head between his hands and thrust wildly in and out of her mouth. She lay between his legs, holding them fast to the mattress. The inability to move made him nearly mindless with his desire for her. Her mouth shifted from his cock to the heavy sac of his testicles, her tongue stroking the rough skin one moment before her lips and teeth nibbled along the underside of his shaft. Then she took him back into her mouth once more. She repeated this until he was writhing, trembling with need, her name a moan repeated in time with her suckling. He was close, so close. His toes curled, fingers gripped the bedsheet on either side of his hips, when she released him and scrambled up his body until she sheathed him within her weeping core.

His eyes flew open, drinking in the vision before him as she began to ride him. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders and back. A long, curling strand beat in time against her breast, the end of the curl wrapped around her hardened nipple. She bit her bottom lip, moaning as she circled her hips against his. His hands reached for her hips, fingers clenching into the fleshy cheeks of her buttocks. His eyes were drawn down towards where they were joined. He could see the soft swell of her belly, more prominent than it had been only weeks ago, and felt a surge of love for her burn within his heart, within his cock as his testicles drew tight against his body.

The force of his orgasm blinded him. He shouted out, his cries hoarse in his throat. He heard her strangled cry, felt her body squeeze him, shower him with her dew as her nails scored his chest. He opened his eyes to see her belly tense and he moved his hand to cover it, to feel her womb under it. He imagined he would never feel closer to Demelza than when they were together like this, linked body to body, sharing this elemental force between them.

She collapsed atop him, laughing and sighing her pleasure in his ear. He hoped she hadn’t seen the moisture in his eyes before wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight.

They lay like this for what felt like days before she gave a small groan and levered herself up. He grunted, wincing a little as her movement pinched his softened cock within her.

She stopped and raised herself off him with a little moan. “I’m sorry, Ross,” she murmured as she nestled herself by his side and pulled the bedclothes back over their bodies. “Did I hurt you?” She was running her index finger around his nipple, watching it pearl to attention under her caress.

He shook his head. “No, love. I’m fine.” He kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her. “How are you this morning, or is it unnecessary for me to ask?” he teased.

She gave his nipple a tweak and he gave her a squeeze. “I am well, husband,” she said, stretching within his arms. He could feel her toes tickling his ankle as she wriggled them.

“May I ask you a question, my dear?” he said, attempting to muffle a yawn and failing miserably.

She laughed. “If you can stay awake long enough to do so!”

He swatted her bottom, enjoying her squeak and rubbed the offended spot. “It has to do with your condition,” he said, wondering if he would be able to ask her without making a hash of it.

She paused in her attentions to his nipple and looked up at him. “Yes, Ross?” she said softly. She shifted so that her head was resting on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, rising to sit up against the headboard. She joined him, looking into his eyes. “You know we have shared much in the way of lovemaking during our marriage.” She blushed, glancing down at her lap before returning her gaze to his. “And we have enjoyed the pleasures that come with married life with frequency.”

She giggled and nodded. “I suppose that is one way to put it, Ross,” she said, nuzzling her nose against his chest and purring. “MMmmm, I love the way you smell, Ross.”

The hair on his arms tingled at the tone in her voice. Was she… again? So soon? His cock twitched under the bedclothes at the prospect. If they kept this up they would never make it to Truro in time for the auction. He cleared his throat. “Well, I often wondered why we were not placed in this situation before now, of course,” he said, his voice a little louder than it needed to be.

She blinked at him. “Why I did not become with child sooner?” she said.

He nodded. “I am merely curious. I mean, the thought did occur to me that you might have been with child as we neared Christmas, since I was trying to figure out what might have been amiss.” She looked at him, puzzled. “The tiredness you were troubled with and all that. And I could not remember the last time you…” He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“When I had my last flux, you mean,” she finished for him. He nodded and she laughed, stroking his chest. “I haven’t any idea why it took as long as it did for us, Ross. I was starting to wonder if there might be something wrong since it hadn’t happened.” She glanced up at him and he could see the worry in her eyes. “But I’ve always been regular as the tides, so when I missed one I knew I needn’t have worried.”

“Before you knew,” he said, touching her hand. “You did not feel you could come and talk to me?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she shook her head. “Oh no, not then, Ross,” she said softly.

“Because you were not sure of my feelings for you,” he said, the words as painful to hear as acknowledging their truth. “Whether I loved you or not?”

“Am I that easy to read, Ross?” she asked, gripping his hand and holding it in her lap.

He shrugged, brushing his thumb across hers. “Perhaps when it comes to some things, more than others.” He paused before risking more. “Christmas night you said I knew you cared for me more deeply than I had for you when we first married.”

She nodded. “I’ve loved you for what seems like my whole life, Ross.”

He smiled down at her. “And I am blessed for it, my dear.” He squeezed the hand she held, looking down on their linked fingers. “It shames me to admit you were correct.” He looked up into her eyes. “That you did indeed feel more for me than I did for you.”

She nodded. “It didn’t matter to me.”

“Demelza,” he said, feeling angry with himself. “It should have.”

She kissed the underside of his jaw and he closed his eyes. “Ross, there’s nothing to be done about the past now,” she said softly. “But I would ask you one question about the past and then be done with it.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Ask me anything, my dear.”

She smiled at him. “Do you remember the night of the pilchard run?”

He blinked. “Yes,” he said, warmth spreading through his chest at the memory. “I think I fell in love with you a little that night, Demelza.” He leant over and kissed her. When he sat back he noticed her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “Earlier that day you’d said you thought you displeased me.” He looked at her and saw she was remembering, too. “There has never been a day where you have displeased me, love. And I have always been proud of you. I would have to say there’s always been a part of me that liked you, very much. But that night after the pilchards…” He paused, drawing her closer to him, breathing in the scent that was Demelza, the scent of the two of them, together. “It was the first time I found myself loving you. I just wasn’t able to say it.”

He kissed her, savouring the sound of her breath, the warmth of her skin, the taste of her tongue. She leaned back, her eyes dark. “I felt closer to you after that night, Ross,” she said softly, her nail drawing designs on his stomach. The muscles twitched under her touch. She blushed and smiled. “And I could trust my heart to you more than just a little after that night.” She looked into his eyes. “If I’d not… if I had not become with child before long, I would have come to you, though I don’t know what ought to be done about it.”

He leant over and kissed her. “I hope you will feel you can come to me now with whatever troubles you, my love.”

She nodded and drew his head back down to kiss her once more. He did not refuse. Her tongue touched his, stroking and caressing and made him ache for her.

And they were, indeed, late leaving Nampara for Truro.

 

They left Nampara at 10 o’clock. They had run into a snag when they discovered that Rose’s left leg was lame and she would not be able to be ridden for at least two days. Demelza was beside herself with worry and upset about their plans. Ross simply shrugged. “No matter, my dear, you can ride with me.” He hid the smile that did its best to crease his face, for she’d once told him riding with him was “distracting.” Yes, it certainly was, however if she wished to go into town, it was her only option. She sighed heavily, looked up into his eyes and took his hand.

They were not on the road more than fifteen minutes before she started to squirm. “Demelza,” Ross said gently, adjusting his seat. “Is this too uncomfortable for you and the child?”

She shook her head. “No Ross, I am fine,” she muttered, shifting once again before looking back at him. “Honestly, we are both fine.”

He glanced at her, deciding to take her at her word. The squirming continued for the rest of the trip. By the time they reached Truro, Ross’s cock was pounding with need. Demelza didn’t look as if she fared any better. He took Demelza to Harris Pascoe’s house where he was given a very lovely farewell and good luck kiss, then walked, wincing, to the Red Lion for the auction. Six hours later, he walked back towards the Pascoe residence, smiling over the fact he’d just turned the first profit on Wheal Leisure since it opened over a year ago. It was not a treasure chest filled with gold, but there was close to £100 to go into the Poldark accounts. Well, minus a few shillings for the gift he carried in his saddlebag.

He climbed the front stairs of the residence and was greeted by Betsy, one of Pascoe’s maids. He wanted to freshen up before seeing Demelza, but heard the crystalline sound of her laughter from the parlour. He changed direction and quickened his pace. She sat with her back to him, her long red-gold hair worn up and off her shoulders, leaving the nape of her neck and shoulder bare. He rose onto his toes to silence his approach, motioning to the maid not to let on that he had arrived. The maid dimpled and nodded. “Mistress Poldark, I am going to check on supper. Can I bring you anything?”

“No thank you, Edith,” Demelza said contentedly.

Ross crept up behind her, leaned over and kissed her on the nape of the neck. She jumped and squeaked. He loved it when she squeaked. “Hello, my love,” he whispered against her skin. Demelza spun around in her chair and looked up at him, her cheeks pink and her eyes widened with surprise.

“Judas, Ross, I almost shouted the house down!” she exclaimed, giving his forearm a light swat. “What must they think of you!”

He grinned, moving around to sit next to her on the sofa. “Tell me of your day.”

She recounted how Verity met her and took her to several shops for fabrics, including some fabric that Demelza planned to use to make blouses and skirts after she delivered the baby. They returned to the dressmaker who had made Demelza’s beautiful Christmas gown and ordered two new frocks and the necessaries that would carry Demelza through the rest of her pregnancy. They also found a blouse and skirt that would be ready for her to take home with them tomorrow. Ross was sharing the good news of the auction when they were called in for supper.

Later that evening, Ross entered the bedchamber to find Demelza already tucked up and dozing in bed. She woke as soon as the door clicked shut. “I didn’t mean to wake you, my dear,” he said, walking over and kissing her on the forehead.

“I was just resting my eyes, Ross,” she said, blinking hard and yawning.

He laughed. “Resting?” She nodded, her sleepy eyes sparkling with mischief. And more. He kissed her then moved towards the wardrobe to remove his coat. “It has been a long day, so I am not surprised you are tired. We will sleep in a bit in the morning and leave for home around noon.” He turned to face her. “Does that suit?”

“Yes, Ross,” she said, smiling. “Shall I help you with your boots?” It was something she liked to do for him, and he enjoyed it as well, but he’d chosen to forgo their custom since learning of her pregnancy. He found he missed it more than he thought he would. He shook his head and smiled at her pout. “Thank you, no, my dear,” he said, reaching into his saddlebag, before returning to her side. “Perhaps you could open this instead?” Ross handed Demelza a wrapped package. She smiled in surprise and squeezed his hand. He watched her from the corner of his eye while he removed his waistcoat as she carefully unwrapped the paper. A small stuffed dog lay nested in the paper, black button eyes amidst the soft brown velvet. She smiled, lighting her face with joy, and raised shining green eyes to meet his.

“I thought the babe would like a pup of her own,” he murmured, sitting next to her on the bed.

“Oh, Ross,” Demelza said, a tear sliding down her cheek. “It’s Garrick!” She laughed, then froze, her eyes widening.

Ross felt the pulse leap in his veins. “Demelza, what’s wro—” She set the stuffed pup on the bed and grabbed his hand, placing it low on her abdomen. Suddenly, he felt a slow, rolling motion, as if he were on a boat at sea and felt the deck rise and fall underneath his feet. He raised his eyes to meet hers. Her tears fell silently down her dimpled cheeks. Happy, joyful tears that left him incapable of speech. His eyes flew back to her stomach as he felt a definite thump against the palm of his hand. He pressed his hand firmly down against her, and was rewarded with another solid thump.

He looked at her, unashamed of the tears that fell down his own cheeks. “Demelza, is that our child?” he asked hoarsely, the hand on her belly becoming a caress.

“Yes, R-Ross,” she whispered, a breathy cry coming from her as she spoke. “Our child.”

Their child. No longer a mere concept, or a wish or dream to come true, but a living creature. A creature unlike any other on earth, existing because they made it, out of the love they had for one another.

The awe and the trepidation of the reality flooded his body and made his heart quake in his chest. His mind raced with a million thoughts, all demanding his attention at the same time. Will she be healthy? Are we ready? Will Demelza be well? Can I do this?

_We will_ have _to do this_ , he thought to himself, watching Demelza’s hand cover his own on her belly, and his love for her trebled. _Our daughter is here, growing stronger by the day. We will be ready._

 

> 4 February 1788
> 
> Dear Dwight,
> 
> The most amazing thing! I felt the child move for the first time! It was extraordinary, my friend, while also overwhelming with all of the responsibilities to come. Demelza appears to be doing well; better than well, as a matter of fact. She is thriving. I have been wondering about something that I hope you will not feel too indelicate a subject to be discussed. But as you are a physician with experience, I pray you will be able to provide me some insight.
> 
> Demelza and I have greatly enjoyed our conjugal rights during the course of our marriage. I have noticed of late, however, that her ~~appetites~~ ~~desires~~ needs seem to have increased, despite her delicate condition. Is this a normal happenstance and is the child in any danger?
> 
> I send this to you special delivery in the hopes you will be able to shed some light on the subject.
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you soon. Until then, I remain
> 
> Your friend
> 
> RVP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I was going to need help with the whole "Havin' My Baby" thing (there's a throwback song if ever there was one) and I was overwhelmed with the response I received to my call for help. This chapter would have been impossible to write without the contributions of the following individuals: Mayyourbeardnevergrowthin, genie1960, rainpuddle13, Lakritzwolf, sivsdotter, goodgirlwhoshopeful, noisylanddefendor THANK YOU!
> 
> Finally, my thanks to xxsparksxx and rainpuddle13 for their encouragement and friendship, and to my beta and dear friend jackie9448.


	4. Beauty Redefined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Demelza are expecting their first child. Inspired by the 2015 production of "Poldark" with some references to the original written works by Winston Graham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: the following story is a product of my overactive imagination. I own NONE of this. Wish I did, but I don't. My deepest appreciation and gratitude to Winston Graham, Debbie Horsfield, Aidan Turner, Eleanor Tomlinson and the cast of the show for all of the inspiration I've got from them. I'll do my best to keep true to the characters, I really will. 
> 
> This picks up right where I left off in [Six Months: Journey to Love](http://archiveofourown.org/series/340453). More notes at the end. I hope you enjoy.

Demelza always loved to make bread. The time it took for her to knead dough was time she looked forward to each day; for she was able to lose herself in the feel of it between her fingers, the smell of the yeast, flour and salt combining to form what would bring comfort and satisfaction to their minds and bellies. She would also indulge in entertaining thoughts that the rhythm of kneading brought to mind: Tabitha Bethia’s paws on a pillow and the similarities they had to her own hands on her husband’s chest. And how they would both purr their contentment at the sensation.

She was in the midst of remembering a moment just like that when she felt a niggling pain in her back become an outright cramp. She stopped working the dough and pressed a flour-covered hand to her lower back. She dug her fingers in as much as she could, alleviating some of the ache, but not all. She wiped both hands on her apron and applied both to the pain, arching her back as she did so and felt the child stretch and turn within her. Sometimes, Demelza found herself staring into space as she did now, when their girl moved round, once again awestruck that this thing was happening to her. She had one hand pressed against her back and rested the other on her abdomen. She closed her eyes, caressing the underside of her belly and smiling at the stretches her little bird made and felt the cramp fade to nothingness.

Suddenly, Jud dropped the firewood onto the flagstones near the hearth and she felt all of her muscles tense up; the cramp back with a vengeance. She opened her eyes and glared at the man, who stood near the fireplace, glaring back at her.

“Jud, please put the wood in the box,” she said through gritted teeth. “Anyone could trip over it and fall headfirst into the hearth.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon… Havin’ problems seein’ th’ floor these days wit’ that belly o’ yurn, Mistress?” he sniggered, looking pointedly at her midsection as he walked past her out to the yard.

She felt the blood drain from her face at his words. The insult, the smell the ale and the general tang of unwashed hair and body odour coming off of him in waves made the soup she had for dinner rise up in her throat. She turned her head, swallowing her gorge heavily back down to her stomach and lifted a handkerchief she kept in her pocket that was infused with the scent of dried lavender and mint. When her stomach settled to normal, she sat down on the bench, lowered her head to her forearms and wept. _How_ dare _he_ , she thought to herself, anguish and fury warring over her. How dare he speak to her that way! And he always knew what sour spot to prod, that Jud Paynter. His comment called into stark clarity the area that caused her the only moments of distress during her pregnancy: her changing, expanding size.

She managed to regain her composure only seconds before Prudie entered the parlour.

“Prudie, Jud simply cannot be in that condition at this hour,” Demelza snapped. “And he _must_ mind his tongue.” She reached for the cup of tea she kept near her and took a sip to settle her gut. “That is, if he intends on staying on here.”

Prudie nodded apologetically. “Yer right, Mistress, ‘ee’s got no excuse fer it, other ‘an bein’ annoyed ‘ee’s got ter do the work.”

Demelza’s anger deflated like a windless sail, resignation taking its place. “Ross must never find out he’s not bringing in the firewood, Prudie,” she whispered. She’d heard hooves out on the cobbles in the yard and knew it was Darkie. “Else he’ll cast both of you off Nampara.”

“’specially if’n ‘ee’d seen _you_ doin’ it, as ye were yesterday,” she said, bending to straighten the wood pile.

“Hush!” Demelza hissed, waving a hand at the maid in caution just as the door swung open. She rose to her feet and brushed the flour off her hands. Prudie dropped a quick curtsey and mumbled a quick “’Evenin’ Cap’n Poldark, sir,” before leaving the room. Ross nodded shortly and closed the door behind him. He was windblown and covered with dust. The frown creasing his forehead eased as he saw her and smiled. The look in his eye made her blush and warmed her belly, and beyond, for he was not so much focused on her, but her breasts. She’d noticed that he’d become nearly obsessed with them over the last few weeks and, in truth, she couldn’t really blame him for it. She was rather impressed with them herself.

Perhaps it was just the way the new gowns she’d got in Truro fit her or they were – as she suspected – simply larger than they were before. Frankly, everything about her felt larger than before and she discovered she didn’t like that at all. She felt thick, clumsy and awkward much of the time, and bending over was much more of a chore. Only that morning she discovered it was harder for her to put on her own stockings and tie her shoes. And she still had two and a half months to go?

She felt another prickle of tears sting her eyes and she blinked furiously, for she was tired of crying at the slightest provocation, too. She focused on being swept into her husband’s arms for a kiss instead.

“Good evening, wife,” he murmured in her ear, his hand sliding along her spine to rest possessively on her left hip. He gave her a squeeze that made her toes curl in her shoes.

“Hello, husband,” she said, her fingers brushing along his collarbones. She leaned back before giving him another quick peck on the lips. “Are you hungry?”

He arched his brow at her. She slapped at his shoulder. “Let me rephrase that. Are you ready to e…” He leered, leaning forward to nibble at her neck. “Ross, enough now. ‘Tis time for supper.” He growled in her ear, pulling her closer. “You’ve a letter from your friend Dwight,” she said, nodding to the sealed envelope on the table.

“Oh?” Ross said, turning his head in the direction of her nod and stepping away from her. “Excellent. Er… how long before we eat?”

She was somewhat surprised at how quickly his attention shifted, but paid it little attention. “We will be ready at half past,” she said. He brushed her cheek with his lips, picked up the letter and walked out of the room for the library.

 _What on earth are they writing about?_ she wondered to herself. She knew him to be a physician and that he would be coming to their corner of the Cornish countryside to work with Ross at the mine, but beyond that she was not certain. Would Ross expect Dwight to tend to her during the final months of her pregnancy and confinement? Mrs Zacky had told her more and more male physicians were entering into the territory exclusively held by the midwives for centuries, especially by members of the gentry.

She chewed her bottom lip. Ever since marrying Ross, Demelza felt as if she had a foot in two worlds. Would Ross insist upon following this new trend, or would she be able to convince him to let her follow her own instincts? The question would need to be answered soon.

Little Bird made another move within her, this time what felt like an elbow or foot pushed against Demelza’s bladder. “Oh dear,” she muttered and made her way to the privy closet, wishing for the fourth time that afternoon that it was downstairs. When she finished, she stared down the stairs for a moment before beginning her descent. She held the handrail firmly, the change in her centre of gravity making her less than sure of her footing. Jud’s wicked comment came rushing back to her as she glanced down, for what he’d said was true: she could barely see the tips of her toes!

Well, it was no wonder she couldn’t see her feet and take off her own shoes, what with all of her nibbling on cakes and biscuits at all hours. She’d developed the worst cravings for sweets and sours, and found herself with a scone or biscuit in her hand as soon as breakfast was done, and pickled onions in the afternoons. It was a miracle Ross would even kiss her at times! She paused to look into the mirror over the hearth in the parlour and grimaced. The added fullness in her face made her feel like one of those fudgy-faced girls Prudie talked about. There were times she barely recognized the young woman Ross had married nearly a year before, and it scared her more than she let on. Could he still see her inside this… stranger than peered out of the mirror at her?

She returned to the parlour table to form the loaves and brushed the tears the slipped from between her lashes on the shoulders of her gown. _It’s not_ all _so bad_ , she thought to herself. Her marvelled at how strong her nails had become, as they’d always been somewhat thin and fragile before her pregnancy. She also delighted in how quickly her hair had grown, and it gave her great pleasure to run the brush Ross had given her as a wedding gift through the thick, curling strands. She tucked a strand that escaped the mass held atop her head behind her ear, remembering how Ross had taken the pins from her hair last night, running his fingers through its length and leaning close to breathe in its fragrance. His growl of appreciation had made her shiver. Then again, everything about the man made her shiver.

Despite feeling more physically awkward (and immense, she mused), they still found need of one another; although she had discovered she occasionally felt ill at ease and embarrassed to fully engage in lovemaking. While it had initially caused her some distress at the possibility of giving up one of the singular joys of their relationship, they still managed to find ways to give and receive pleasure. Although, she admitted, it would be nice to watch him when he would bend to taste her, without her belly getting in the way.

She shook her head and wiped down the table. “Jinny?” she called to the kitchen. “Please lay the table for supper.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

They retired early, for Ross had to head to Wheal Leisure at dawn for a meeting with Henshawe and Zacky Martin. Ross sat at his desk, re-reading his letter from Dwight.

 

 

> 1 March 1788
> 
> Dear Ross,
> 
> I will arrive in Truro in three weeks’ time and will look forward to being able to address your questions in person. I would very much like to have seen your face when you wrote last. I have no doubt that scar of yours was quite vivid in hue.
> 
> To answer your question as delicately as I can, it is not uncommon and you are a most fortunate man.
> 
> See you soon,
> 
> Dwight

Ross closed up the letter and tucked it into the drawer, grinning. He had to agree with his friend: he was a most fortunate man. The weather that spring had been good enough for them to get an early start on the fields. Leisure continued to shower them with copper ore in large enough quantities that placed smiles upon his shareholders’ faces. Or at least on some of them, he reflected ruefully thinking about Dr Choake’s continued refusal to further invest in the enterprise while gladly continuing to collect profits on his existing shares. None of these things, however, were as gratifying as what he had here awaiting him every night.

He looked across the room and smiled. Demelza was relaxing in her armchair, taking a break from the growing pile of sewing she had in her basket and enjoying a small book of poetry he’d given her several months ago. The firelight shimmered against her skin and hair, turning both a fiery bronze. She was radiant, he thought to himself. He found her protests about her changing figure to be nonsensical much of the time, because he simply couldn’t fathom how she could see herself as slow and immense as she complained of being.

He leaned back in his chair, watching her. Her breasts rose and fell softly against the curve of the collar of one of her new gowns. She’d abandoned the stays, which gave her figure a softer, curvier shape, and he found it tremendously alluring. Tonight, she wore a gown the colour of indigo, deep and rich and it contrasted with the pale, blue-veined flesh he found near impossible to keep himself from touching and tasting. The soft swell of their child showed more and more as the days went by. He often found his fingers itching to hold her, caress her belly in the hopes of feeling the babe flutter. He’d taken to sleeping with his hand resting on her belly and had even been awoken a few times by a swift and sturdy bump or kick. How she could sleep through it was beyond him.

Almost as if he willed it, he watched her hand move down to cup her abdomen in the way he’d observed her do whenever the child was active and moving within her. He wished it were he holding her so, just then. He ran his forefinger along the edge of the brandy glass, felt the stirrings of arousal begin. He stood abruptly and walked over to the wardrobe, surreptitiously adjusting his breeches before walking over to where she sat.

She glanced up at him, then down. She arched her brow and raised her eyes back to his. “Honestly, Ross,” she muttered, closing the book before dropping it and her hands into her lap “I am the size of one of our cows.”

He picked up the book and set it on the table. “You are _not_ the size of one of our cows, Demelza,” he said softly, offering her his hand. She sighed, shaking her head, and took it. As she stood, he slid his arms around her and kissed her, gently, drawing her in against him. She sighed against his mouth, her hands slipping under the open front of his waistcoat to clasp his shoulder blades. His tongue touched hers, tasting the port she had with dinner and he moaned.

She broke their kiss, leaning back to look at him. “Ross,” she murmured.

“Yes, my dear,” he said, leaning down to kiss her neck and jaw.

“How?”

He stopped tasting the side of her neck and frowned down into her eyes, the colour of jade. Tears shimmered in their corners and he grew quite concerned. “How what, Demelza?”

She blinked furiously, attempting to clear them. “I don’t understand how you could want me now, Ross,” she said, her voice sounding near hopeless. “As I am.”

He blinked in disbelief. “Demelza, my dear,” he whispered. His hands rose to grasp her upper arms, fuller now. “You are more beautiful to me now than you have ever been. I mean, I’ve always found you beautiful, but you have become radiant, almost glowing in your beauty in recent weeks.” He pressed a kiss along her cheek and looked into her eyes. “I was just thinking about that before I rose to join you here. Your fullness, here,” he said, brushing his fingertip along the edge of her shift and tracing one of the veins that had grown to prominence on her right breast. His hand move down to cup the fullness he admired and he lowered his mouth to brush a kiss along the path his fingers had traced. He stood again, kissing her jaw and temple before returning his eyes to hers. His hand continued down with the briefest of pauses along her abdomen before circling to run along the curve of her back and down towards her hips. He gave her right buttock and hip a squeeze. “The curve of your shape here,” he murmured, and then pulled her towards him until the swell of her belly was tight against him. He kissed her, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth to nip before soothing it with his tongue then raised his head to gaze upon her. “So incredibly beautiful, my dear Demelza.”

She shook her head, dropping her chin. He tipped it up until she was forced to look at him. He searched her eyes, dismayed at the sadness he saw within them. “Come over here and sit with me,” he said, softly yet firmly, taking her by the hand over to their bed. “Please, talk to me and help me understand.”

She heaved a heavy sigh and began. “It started the night before we went into town, do you remember?” He nodded vaguely, wondering what she was getting at. “I tore my dress?”

He nodded with more conviction. “You did, my dear. But you were wearing one of your oldest dresses, from well before we married.” He cocked his head. “It was expected you would need new garments to carry you through your time, yes?”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “But I didn’t think it would affect me as it has. Ross, I feel so unsteady on my feet; not from being faint, but I can’t see my feet much of the time. I don’t know where I’m stepping and I feel like I’ll topple over the slightest thing. And as much as I hated my stays, not wearing them makes me feel like a pudding that’s been left out too long and is collapsing off the plate.”

Ross bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing, the mental images she created with her words nearly impossible to withstand. It wasn’t until he tasted blood that he felt he could contain himself. “Demelza,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. “You are carrying our child, my love.”

“I know, Ross, bu—”

“—Hush, now,” he said softly, brushing away the tears from her cheeks. “You are doing something miraculous. Life lives within you,” he said, marvelling at her and placed his hand against her abdomen. A thought occurred to him that made his pulse race. “Are you… do you regret it?”

Her eyes shot to his and she shook her head. “Oh no, that’s not it at all,” she said vehemently and raised a hand to cup his face. “There is so much joy inside me, Ross. When I feel her move, sometimes I just stop what I’m doing and focus on the fact there is a living being, growing inside me. A part of you,” she brushed his cheek and he kissed her palm. “And a part of me.”

He smiled. “I don’t think I told you what I was thinking the first time I felt our girl move within you, did I?” She shook her head. He took the hand that stroked his face and moved it to cover his heart, pressing his own against it. “Amazement. Absolute terror. Awe. All of the things that I felt when you first told me you were with child, except multiplied a thousand times. There are times when I still feel all of those things. It happens at the oddest times: when I’m forty fathoms below and worry about rock falls and never seeing you again. When I’m riding home to you from a trip to Truro. When I’m inside you, and you tighten around me.” He brushed a kiss on her lips. “And when I see you, skin so fair against mine.”

“Ross, I know you mean to be comforting,” she said, touching his cheek and tracing his scar with her finger. “And I’ll admit, it helps to hear you say you desire me, despite how I am—”

“—Not despite, my love, in addition to,” he implored, cupping her face in his hands. “I will love and desire you until the day I die, Demelza.” The words felt like an oath to him, something housed deep within his soul.

She nodded, raising a hand to cover his. “’Tis true for me, too,” she agreed, “but it… the way I feel about how I am, now… it just makes it that much harder for me to feel desirable,” she said, sadness radiating from every line of her body.

He leaned back, dropping his hands down into her lap. “I see,” he said, without seeing. He felt completely helpless in that moment. “Do you wish to be alone?” he said, his throat closing around the last word to the point it was a near whisper.

She shook her head. “No…no, Ross. But,” she said, pausing before raising her eyes to meet his. “Can we just hold one another tonight?”

He nodded, wrapping her in his arms. “Tonight and any other night of your choosing, my dear.”

She nuzzled into his arms and heaved a heavy sigh. “Thank you, Ross.”

He nodded against her hair. What she’d shared with him tonight made him uneasy and his concern for her grew.

 

Work at the mine kept Ross very busy for the next week. During that time, he respected her wishes, lying beside her each night, speaking into the darkness about their hopes and fears for the enormous change that was to come to them in a few short weeks. And he yearned for her, of course. He always yearned for his Demelza. But in truth, that was the problem. He yearned for her, this new Demelza, fuller of figure and she couldn’t understand how it was possible, because all of the things he found so desirable were so undesirable to her. He felt wretched, knowing how uncomfortable she was with herself.

His work kept his mind occupied, but his nerves were frayed and temper short. One day, whilst grumbling over some distressing reports about the condition of one of the shafts, Zacky interrupted him mid-sentence. “Ross, what is the matter?”

“Why do you ask?” Ross queried. He looked at his friend and rolled up the parchment, clenching it in his fist. “Because the ladder to fifty fathoms is near failure? The supports are almost crumbling? This needs to be sorted, Zacky, and immediately!”

“Of course, of course, Ross,” Zacky agreed. “And we are doing that as we speak.” He paused, his dark eyes meeting Ross’s with compassion. “But there is something amiss with you, Ross. We all know you’re terse and broody most of the time. But lately there’s a sadness about you, and at such a time that should be bringing you naught but joy.”

Ross sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It’s Demelza. She is joyful because of the babe, as am I, of course. But you notice she rarely comes to visit during the day, which she was doing regularly for months? She doesn’t venture any farther than the borders of our land, rarely sees anyone. She acts as if she were… ashamed of what is happening and how she is changed by it.”

Zacky nodded. “The same thing happened with Mrs Zacky with our first, Ross. It’s a shock for them, she told me once, everything that’s happening and how they are changing, inside and outside.” He patted Ross on the shoulder. “It will pass, once the child is here.”

Ross nodded. He hoped his friend was right.

It was full dark by the time he reached Nampara that evening. He settled his horse for the night and walked into the parlour where he found Prudie dousing the candles over the mantle. “Prudie? Where is your mistress?” he asked, hanging his greatcoat and hat on the hook.

“She be upstairs, Cap’n Ross, sir, wantin’ a bath,” she said, motioning to the buckets of steaming water on the floor.

“Let me,” he said, picking up the buckets. Prudie looked at him, opening and closing her mouth as if she was trying to tell him something, then thinking better of herself. “What is it, Prudie?”

She twisted her fingers in her apron. “It’s jest… she’s been awful quiet today, sir.”

He nodded, swallowing. “Thank you, Prudie.”

He turned and climbed the stairs, shouldering open the door to the master bedchamber. He found her, sitting on the side of the bed in her night rail. Her mind was a thousand miles from where she sat, and her left hand rubbed over the top of her abdomen. He cursed the buckets of water for all he wanted to do was cross the room and grab her up into his arms. He was forced to clear his throat, for if he didn’t he wouldn’t be able to speak. “Hello, Demelza,” he said, smiling.

She looked up, startled. “R-Ross,” she breathed in that way that made him yearn for her.

“Prudie said you wished to bathe,” he said, walking further into the room. He poured first one, then the other bucket of water into the hip bath stationed in front of the fireplace. He turned briefly to close the door, then returned his gaze.

“Yes, I-I did,” she said, stammering.

“And now?” he said softly, motioning to the steaming tub and offering his hand to her. “May I help you?”

Her eyes widened. “You wish to bathe me?”

He nodded, feeling heat rise up his throat to his cheeks. “Do you remember our wedding night, when I came upon you while you were at your bath?”

Demelza’s cheeks turned very pink with remembrance, charming him utterly in that moment. She nodded. “Yes, I do, Ross.”

He took a step towards her, then stopped. “Please, Demelza, may I?”

She worried her bottom lip then nodded. She lifted a foot and he noticed she still had her stockings on. “Would you help me with these, Ross?” She blushed. “I’m beginning to find it harder to breathe when I bend over.”

His Demelza, so carefree, filled with boundless energy, running through fields, climbing trees, thinking nothing to move furniture to clean. And here she was, in this moment, unable to surmount the obstacle her own body had become to tend to her own stockings. _All of this,_ he thought to himself, _she is doing for us to bring our child into the world._ Ross walked over to her, kissing her softly before kneeling on the floor in front of her. “I will help you in anyway I can, my love.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek before reaching down to lift the hem of her night rail. Her legs, long and lean, as beautiful as they had been the first night they made love, were encased in a pair of simple grey stockings, tied just above her knees with black ribbons. He rolled the left stocking up her thigh to free the ribbon, then drew each down her leg, fingers trailing along the path. He kissed her on the inside of her thigh, just above the knee before repeating the task with her right leg. He felt her fingers toy with his hair as he worked, each caress making it harder for him to breathe. He raised his head when he finished, her eyes dark with a mixture of desire, shyness and doubt.

“So beautiful, Demelza,” he whispered. His hands, holding the bottom edge of her night rail, rested along the outside of her thighs. “May I?” She nodded and rose to her feet. He stood, feeling his knees creak, and brought his hands up and over her head, taking the garment with him. What he saw made him gasp with awe.

“What?” she said urgently, fear in her eyes and her hands swept in front of her body in an effort to shield herself from his gaze.

“No,” he rasped. “Please don’t, Demelza.” His hands reached for hers, to pull her towards him. “I am overwhelmed anew by your beauty. You are aglow, my love.” He kissed her, feeling her body tremble against him. His hands slid around her waist, caressing her back and buttocks before moving up to cup her upper arms. He leaned back, looking down at her face. “Please, let me help you.”

She nodded again. He picked her up and carried her to the bath. The next twenty minutes were spent in near silence, broken only by the silky, trickling music of water being poured or sluiced over her body. His hands ran along her damp skin, touching breast, hip, thigh and calf until he raised cupped hands up to pour water over the graceful arc of her stomach. He ran the sponge over her skin and saw their child turn within her, drawing his hand to touch her, her hand to touch his, their fingers to twine for a moment of inexpressible love. His other hand took the sponge and, dipping it into the water, ran it between her legs, feeling the hair shielding her womanhood brush against his skin. He groaned uncontrollably, releasing the sponge and touching her, feeling the slickness of her flesh against his fingers.

“I want you so, Demelza,” he rasped in her ear. “Please…” She leaned back against him, nodding. He helped her to her feet, grabbing the bath linen and drying her as quickly as he could, his heart hammering inside his chest. He threw the linen to the floor and circled her waist with his arms, kissing her until his head spun with a week’s worth of need and desire. Her fingers grazed his scalp and made him shudder against her. He tore his mouth from hers, picked her up and carried her to their bed, laying her against the bedclothes. She tugged the sheet up almost to her neck and smiled shyly. He grinned at her then sat on the bed near her hip. He was tugging at his boots when he felt her hand brush his shoulder. He turned to see her looking at his booted foot. “Yes?”

She sighed. “I wish I could help you with them, Ross.”

He released his foot and leaned over to kiss her, longingly before backing away, his hand over hers in her lap. “You will again, my dear.” He returned to the task and was free of them within moments. He stood in front of her, fingers unbuttoning his waistcoat with agonizing slowness. He smiled and nodded towards the hands that clutched the sheet to her chest. She swallowed and let the sheet drop. Her breasts were exposed, swollen, the nipples and areolas larger and darkened. “Demelza, my love,” he said softly. He flung the waistcoat to the floor and hauled the shirt up and over his head before moving to the buttons on his breeches.

Nude, he knelt next to the bed. “Let me love you, Demelza” he whispered, his fingers tugging the sheets further down her body until the curve of her belly was exposed. Her skin was rose pink and fragrant from her bath. Ross leaned forward, his hand caressing the side of her belly as he nuzzled her skin. As he rubbed his cheek against it he felt their child nudge against him and he laughed, a choked sound to his own ears. Demelza’s left hand ran through his hair, tangling in the long curling strands.

His hand pressed against her belly once again and he was rewarded with another, stronger bump against his palm. “Oh, my dear little one,” he murmured to the child shielded in her belly, shaken by the force of the love he had for this being he’d yet to meet, knowing he would face hell itself to protect her from harm. He looked up to see Demelza smiling through her tears, her hair a tumble of red-gold cascading over her shoulders. He joined her on the bed, wrapping her in his arms, kissing her until they were senseless. “Demelza, I can’t breathe for love of you,” he murmured against her throat. “I haven’t the words for what I feel for you right now. Only that I love you so.”

“R-Ross,” she sighed, arching her throat, offering herself as she had the night they first made love. He lost himself, loving the taste of her skin, the delicate shell of her ear, the curve of her jaw, She shuddered against him, her hands clutching his shoulders as he ran kisses along her collar bone. He shifted down, brushing her hair aside to taste and suckle at her magnificent breasts, delighting as the nipples tightened under his tongue and teeth.

He pressed kiss after kiss on her belly, pulling the sheet farther and farther down until she was completely exposed. He looked up at her, pressing one last kiss low on her swollen stomach, shifted until he was between her legs, kissing her sex. He breathed in her scent, musk and spice, and tasted her, tart against his tongue. His arms wrapped around her thighs, his hands caressing her sides as he sucked and tongued her bud. She writhed against him, and her sighs were music to his ears, songs of joy and desire he would never tire of hearing from her. He was enveloped in her need and it fed his own.

“Ross, God, Ross, please,” she moaned, her hips thrusting against his tongue. He kissed the inside of her thigh, drawing the skin in against his teeth, marking her and making her cry out. He slid up next to her, turning her to face him. He kissed her, knowing she would taste herself on his lips and chin, knowing she would love it and him for doing this to her. Need, love, lust and mindless desire for her twisted within him, clawed at his restraint and made him groan aloud against her mouth, thrusting against her, needing her more than ever before.

His right hand ran down the curve of her buttocks. She shivered and sighed his name as his fingertips grazed the cleft between, and her hips arched against him, making him growl deep in his throat. His hand moved down to cup the back of her thigh, intending to lift it up and over his hip, but stopped. “Too much, love?”

She nodded, running her fingers through his hair. “Turn me,” she whispered urgently. He brushed a kiss across her lips and helped her turn to her other side. She arched her back, bringing her hips up and back against his groin. He groaned, his hips flexing involuntarily against her, his cock burrowed between the moist heat of her outer lips. He closed his eyes, bathing himself in her and clinging to the tattered threads of control with fumbling fingers before he slipped inside.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice shaking with yearning. His hands slid up from her hips to capture her breasts, their firm, full heat pressed tight against his palms. He kissed the back of her neck and thrust up and into her body. They paused, shuddering, for mere seconds before moving in unison, slowly at first until the last thread sheared free. They mated, primal and impassioned, sighs turning to cries, gasps to moans until he shuddered one last time, pouring his seed into her body, feeling her clench and flow around him, for seconds, hours, days.

At length, she shifted her body, and he slipped free. She turned to look at him over her shoulder and smiled. He kissed her shoulder then leant over to kiss her forehead, cheeks and lips, his hands turning her to face him once more. She pressed close, her hands running lazy circles along his ribs and lower back. He leaned back, raising one of his hands to stroke her hair, pressing kisses along her hairline. “Are you all right, my love?” he asked hoarsely.

She nodded. “Yes, Ross,” she sighed, pressing her head against his shoulder. “It appears we are down one more way for us to be together. I’m sorry.”

He knew how much she enjoyed it when they joined together, face to face. He sensed her sadness as that moment of realization passed between them. He kissed her deeply. “Do not fret, my dear. We will be together like that again soon. And there are still many other ways.” He smiled as he nuzzled her neck, pressing kisses along the ivory column of skin he loved so much. “I am content to be with you as we are right now if that will make you happy,” he whispered, low and deep in her ear before nipping her earlobe.

She shivered with pleasure before looking up into his eyes. “I wish to make love with you for the rest of my days and nights, dearest.”

He blinked, tremendously moved by her comment. “And I you,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. “I should have been more thoughtful about what would be more comfortable for you. I just needed you so badly.”

“I needed you too, Ross,” she said, brushing a curl from his forehead. “I wasn’t thinking at all. And it was good… not thinking for a while.”

He chuckled. “It was indeed,” he sighed, understanding her completely in that moment.

She smiled up at him. “I sometimes think that I think too much.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss on her cheek. “It happens to the best of us, my dear.” He reached down to grasp the bedclothes and pulled them over their bodies. “Just as long as you believe me when I say you are beautiful to me.”

She nodded. “I am very glad you find me so, Ross.”

“I always will.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 Notes: I had similar feelings about writing this chapter as I did the 25 July chapter for Six Months. There was a lot of emotional stuff to navigate through, only this time, there was much of it that I had absolutely no personal frame of reference to help guide me through it. I received a lot of great feedback from many people on what life was like when one was 6.5 months pregnant and I want to thank them here. 
> 
> TUMBLR: @rainpuddle13, @genie1960, @ceallaig1, @osmarinamo, @lakritzwolf
> 
> TWITTER: @Steph73_NL , @coolmarg 
> 
> The person who helped me the most, as she does every time I send her another one of these things, is my dear friend and beta @FollowAidT aka Jackie. She really pushed me and my abilities to accurately describe what Demelza experienced, wanted it to ring true. I have never been as proud of a piece of writing as I am this chapter, and it is because of her willingness to poke at me and share deeply with me that it turned out as well as it did. Thank you, my dear friend.
> 
> Finally, I made the decision to seek out an artist to illustrate something that happens in this scene, something that has been in my mind ever since I began to conceive (heh) or writing it. It is called "Awaiting Julia", of course, and was created by the brilliant Victoria Couso aka @vitiscouso on Tumblr and Twitter. Please give her a shout out and let her know what you think. 
> 
> Thanks for your support, the kudos and comments. Please keep them coming... they really do mean so much to me!


	5. Welcome to the Neighbourhood, Dr Enys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Demelza are expecting their first child. Inspired by the 2015 production of "Poldark" with some references to the original written works by Winston Graham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Okay, this is where I start to play a wee bit with the timelines, locations and dialogue on the show. I beg your indulgence.

A lone rider crossed the creek and made his way up the winding road towards a cottage overlooking the sea. The children playing along the far edge of the adjacent field told him it was the place he sought: Nampara Cottage and the home of Ross Poldark.

Dwight Enys, recently from London, smiled as he looked up at the house. Solid, made from the granite that covered the countryside, it looked like it could withstand the wind that blew up from the sea for a thousand years. He gave his horse, a gelding named Samuel, another nudge in the sides to quicken his pace.

He was a handsome man around twenty-six years of age, lean of build with sandy brown hair and kind, empathetic blue eyes. He was pleased to have left the noise and general filth of London to come to Cornwall under Ross’s patronage and had expedited his final weeks of training in order to arrive in time for the birth of his friend’s first child.

He ran through the contents of the last letter he received from Ross before leaving London:

> Dear Dwight,
> 
> I am very much looking forward to your arrival on the 12th of April. Things here continue apace, although I have had to be more careful around Demelza when it comes to her appearance. I have never found her to be more beautiful, but she feels the exact opposite, much of the time. Beyond that, this has been a truly remarkable time for us, despite my reservations and concerns for her safety.
> 
> I would like to formalize plans to have you attend to her when her time comes. I look forward to discussing this with you in more detail upon your arrival.
> 
> I have secured a cottage not far from our home for you to stay in. It is in need of a few repairs but we can manage those once you arrive. I extend an invitation for you to stay with us for your first few days in the district, until we can assess what will be needed to bring the cottage up to snuff.
> 
> Please join us for dinner and know I wish you a safe journey. I remain
> 
> Your humble servant
> 
> RVP

As he crested the hill he saw a familiar figure, dressed in heavy work clothes, manhandling the gate at the end of the drive. He rose in his stirrups. “Ross!” he shouted. The man turned at the sound of his voice and a brilliant smile creased his face.

“Dwight! Hello and welcome!” Ross exclaimed, raising his hand and abandoning his task. Dwight jumped out of the saddle and grasped the reins. The two men met, hammering one another’s backs and laughing before standing back to size one another up. “Damn me, man, it is good to see you again!”

Dwight nodded. “You as well, Ross. You look tremendous!” And he was not exaggerating. The last time he’d see Ross, he’d been so thin, a limping shadow of the person before him now, a head swaddled in bandages and eyes hollowed with pain. Now he stood before him, vibrant with strength and vitality, his limp barely discernable. Dwight gestured to the scar. “Rakish as hell, my friend.”

Ross chuckled. “I barely notice it any longer, I must say,” he said, tracing its path down his cheek. “But it does tend to make an impression.”

“Ha!” Dwight laughed. “I’m certain it does.”

“Listen, this can wait,” Ross said, gesturing towards the gate. “Let’s go up to the house. I’m anxious to introduce you to my wife.”

They walked up the drive, Samuel in tow, talking and catching up with one another. Dwight was charmed the instant they turned the corner and walked into the yard. The cottage and outbuildings were as sturdy as he’d initially thought and conveyed the feelings of home and comfort. He was turning back to tell his friend how much he liked it when a woman, heavily pregnant, came out of the cottage. Dwight watched his friend’s face brighten, breaking into another stunning smile.

“Dwight, let me present my wife, Demelza,” Ross said, striding over to her side, chest swollen with pride. He drew her hand through the crook of his arm and led her over to where Dwight stood. “Demelza, my friend Dwight Enys. Physician and, with luck, a future Cornishman.”

Demelza smiled up at him and Dwight was a tad dumbstruck. She had the most glorious red hair piled high upon her head and sparkling sea-green eyes. She was lovely and radiant with her pregnancy. He managed to reach for the hand she extended and offered her a kiss on her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am.”

Demelza blushed prettily and laughed. “Oh, please! Call me Demelza, Dwight.” She looked from him to Ross’s face, her eyes tracing down the scar. “You’re the one who mended his face?”

“Your fame proceeds you, sir!” Ross said with a grin. He turned to Demelza. “Dwight is indeed responsible for putting me back together after I was injured in Virginia, my dear.”

Demelza squeeze her husband’s arm, slipped away from him to rise up on her tiptoes and kissed Dwight on the cheek. “Thank you for that, Dwight.”

Dwight felt his cheeks redden, to his mortification. “I-it was my pleasure, Demelza,” he stammered. What a delightful woman!

Ross chuckled and gave Demelza a tender kiss. “Are we early for dinner?”

“Not at all, gentlemen. We will be ready by the time you get Dwight’s horse settled.” She paused, pressing a hand to her swollen belly.

“Is anything amiss, my dear?” Ross asked, his brow furrowing.

Demelza rolled her eyes. “No, Ross,” she huffed. “She’s just active, like her mother. Go tend to the horse. See you shortly.” She gave her husband’s hand a squeeze and headed back into the cottage. Dwight had noticed how quickly his friend’s face went from happiness to concern and hid a smirk. _He is a bit of a mother hen_ , Dwight thought to himself, recalling the letters of concern he’d received over the past several weeks. This should be interesting.

“Come along,” Ross said, shaking Dwight out of his thoughts. “Let’s get your horse settled in and see what is in store for us today.”

Within the hour, Dwight’s hunger was satisfied following a delicious dinner of roast pork and root vegetables and several glasses of cider. “Demelza, that was wonderful,” he said, patting his waist and setting his napkin on the table. “Thank you for such a lovely welcome.”

“We’re that pleased to have you here, Dwight,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “And mining diseases! You will not suffer for lack of people to talk to here. How long have you wanted to study this?”

“It has been an interest of mine for several years,” he said. “My mentor was instrumental in identifying evidence of miner’s lung in coal mines about ten years ago. I often wondered if the same issue was true with miners from copper and tin mines. Perhaps not as obvious as coal, but just as detrimental to the men affected by it. I remembered Ross mentioning his family’s history with copper mining when we were in America and sought him out when my studies were coming to an end.”

“When I received Dwight’s inquiry, I was reminded of Jim Carter, Demelza. Jim _as well as_ his father, as a matter of fact.” Ross looked somber for a moment. “Both of them affected by the foul air in those mines. I’ll be happy to be a part of anything Dwight can learn that could help them.”

“I am very excited to get started as soon as I can,” Dwight said.

“We will head to the mine as soon as we finish here,” Ross said agreeably. “You’ll stay here tonight, then you and I will see the gatehouse tomorrow and assess what needs to be accomplished to make it liveable.”

They talked about the area and some of the local towns and villages where Dwight hoped to practice, as word of his skills and reputation grew. Jinny brought their sweet – plum pudding – and tea. Dwight complimented the maid on the taste of the pudding, which made her turn red to the roots of her hair, whisper a swift “Thank ‘ee, sir,” before she scampered out of the room.

“Plums have been in favour in recent weeks,” Ross laughed. “One of your new favourites, my dear?” he asked Demelza.

“They have become a bit of a passion of mine of late,” she admitted. “Along with pickled onions, of all things!”

“Tis to be expected,” Dwight said. “We’ve no idea why cravings happen, but I’ve heard of others that would make yours pale in comparison.” The conversation shifted to some of the things he’d heard over the years, several which left Demelza agog with disbelief.

She wiped her eyes with her napkin. “Given your experience, Dwight, perhaps you can help convince Ross that I am not about to shatter each time I take a step?”

Ross arched a brow. “I have not been as obnoxious as that,” he muttered.

“Well, perhaps not recently, but you do have a tendency to hover.” She brushed her hand over his.

“May I inquire as to how you are feeling, Demelza?” Dwight asked conversationally before spooning up a bite of pudding.

 “You may,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I am feeling very well, Dwight, although I will be glad when this is over. There have been no problems, whatsoever.”

“That’s very good to hear,” Dwight said, finishing his pudding.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ross and Dwight headed over to Wheal Leisure soon after dinner. The brisk ride did much to clear some of the cobwebs from Ross’s head following their meal and gave them time to talk in more detail about Dwight’s plans. He would interview the miners to assess their need for care, then target the miners most impacted for immediate chronic care treatment and monitor the others in early stage for preventative measures. Ross was impressed with the specificity of his friend’s plan and the way the analytical nature of his mind worked.

After they visited Leisure they headed over to the cottage. Ross estimated the work would take about a week to complete. There were some issues with one part of the roof, the stairs needed repair and the place needed a thorough cleaning. They could get the a couple of women from Mellon to come tidy up, and one of the new kittens from their barn cat could be brought over to help manage the mice once it was weaned.

He turned to look at his friend. “Will this do, Dwight?”

Dwight beamed at him. “Do? This will be perfect! There’s even an extra room I can use for my office so I can keep all of my experiments out of the front of the house.” He rubbed his forehead. “They can be…somewhat gruesome to those unaccustomed to seeing dissection close at hand.”

Ross blanched. “I can imagine all too well.” He gave Dwight an assessing look. “You’ve skill with a scalpel. How are you with a hammer?”

Dwight laughed. “I’ve wielded a hammer a time or two. Thank you for arranging this for me, Ross. I hope I do not let you down.”

They agreed to return to the cottage first thing in the morning to work on the roof and mounted their horses for the return trip to Nampara. They gave Darkie and Samuel their heads to meander along the road and Ross got down to the matter at hand: Demelza.

“I would like to tell Demelza that you will attend to her when her time comes, Dwight,” Ross said with a nod.

Dwight rubbed his upper lip. “Before we get into that, what plans does she have at present for this?” he asked.

Ross frowned. “She has asked one of the local women in the village to help her. You met her husband at the mine, Zacky Martin. She has several children of her own and has helped a number of other women in the village with theirs, her own daughter included. Now, I’m not questioning her abilities,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I only want what is best for my wife.”

Dwight nodded. “As I mentioned in our correspondence, Mrs Zacky and other women like her have been helping deliver children for centuries, while physicians are only just now starting to move into this service of care. In most cases, the physicians are usually called in only to attend to women who are clearly in some danger from labour.”

“And you can tell she is not in danger, just from spending an hour or so with her over dinner?” Ross asked, unable to restrain a small snort of laughter.

“Most assuredly, Ross. She seems to be in very good health, Ross,” Dwight said companionably. “Not what I had expected from your letters.”

Ross blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, given the concerns you expressed I thought she would look tired, listless, very overweight. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see that this was not the case. She is the picture of health.”

This was not what Ross had expected. He shifted in the saddle to look Dwight directly in his eye. “But wha—”

“—Ross, my friend, you have to remember, women have been bringing children into the world for centuries,” Dwight said, sharply, and it made Ross brows to draw together. He nudged Samuel closer until he was within arm’s reach of Ross and extended a hand to touch his shoulder. “They are better capable of handling pain than we are and they are built to do this,” Dwight continued, his voice softer. “Even without putting her through what would be a very discomfiting examination, given I’ve only known her for six hours, I can tell she is in an ideal physical state for her coming ordeal.”

Ross opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He had anticipated the conversation going in a completely different direction than the one it travelled. He had no doubts in Dwight’s abilities so it stood to reason that his assessment was sound. _Has all of my worry been for naught?_ Ross thought to himself. What a fool he had been, all this time questioning her when everything she’d told him was true: she was fine.

Ross looked at his friend, who sat calm in his saddle, his horse lazily chomping at the dry grass next to the path. Darkie whickered and tossed her head in the direction of home. He shook his head and laughed, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?”

Dwight grinned. “No more than most men are when their wives are expecting their first child, Ross. No more than I suppose I will be when that happy day comes for me. And I’m a physician and should know better!”

Ross drew up Darkie’s reins and nodded his head towards the cottage. “Let’s head on.”

~*~*~*~~*~*~*

The last shockwaves of Ross’s orgasm surged through him, leaving him weak and gasping as he held himself still within her. The walls of her sex fluttered against him, wringing a final shuddering groan from his throat. It was dawn, and she’d woken him with her hand on his cock, her mood playful and passionate. It was the first time she’d been interested in intimacies in several weeks, and they’d lost themselves in the sensations each could raise up within the other. They’d spent what felt like hours kissing and caressing each other to the point she’d risen onto her knees, urging him to take her from behind. He’d eagerly agreed, pressing kisses and caresses along her curving spine and hip before slipping deep within her warmth.

“Ross,” she sighed, stretching her arms out in front of her as if she were a cat preparing to rise from its nap. He used his thumbs to rub along her lower spine and listened to her purr in response. He smiled and began to withdraw, listening to her soft mewl of protest. “No, don’t go.”

“I must, my love,” he said softly, slipping completely out of her body and helping her lie down on her side. He reached for one of the small pieces of linen she kept under her pillow to tidy up after their lovemaking and lay down next to her, spooned close to her back and gently touched her womanhood to care for her.

The loving smile slid from his face as he noticed the linen was marked with blood. He jerked his head down to look at his penis and was horrified to find himself covered with blood. He looked up at the back of her head, her red hair a wild tangle across her pillow. He willed himself to stay calm, for his voice not to reveal the terror that clutched at his heart.

It was his stillness that gave him away. “What is it, Ross?” she asked, turning towards him, a frown furrowing her brow. She first saw the cloth, then followed his eyes to his groin. She let out a single cry that sent ice through his veins as he tore his gaze from his body to her face. “Ross?”

He hastily wiped the blood from his sex and wrapped her in his arms. “I don’t know, dearest girl, I don’t know.” He was doing all he could to keep his voice steady. “Are you in pain? Did I hurt you?“

She shook her head wildly. “No! I didn’t feel anything outside of what usually happens between us!”

“There must have been something, Demelza!” he said, the panic curdling his blood turning his voice harsh and demanding.

“No, there was nothing!” Her voice quavered and trembled. “I’ve no idea why I’m bleeding. Something must be terribly wrong!” She began to cry in earnest, trembling with her sobs. He felt like a monster shouting at her like he had and cradled her in his arms.

“I’m sorry, my love, I’m so sorry,” he crooned in her ear. “Let me get Dwight, Demelza. Please don’t move, just let me go get Dwight.”

“I’m scared, Ross,” she said, weeping onto his chest.

“I know,” he choked; his efforts to keep his tears at bay failing. It killed him to have to leave her, even for the few seconds required to bring Dwight to her, but it had to be done. “I am as well. I will be gone only for a few seconds. Do you have more linens, love?” She nodded. “Take them and hold them against yourself. I will be right back.”

She scooped up a handful of the linens and pressed them between her legs. Ross brought the bedclothes over her and scrabbled to find his nightshirt. He managed to pull it over his head and get it down over his hips by the time he reached the bedchamber door. He flung open the door and pounded down the stairs to Joshua Poldark’s old room. He hammered on the door. “Dwight! DWIGHT!” he cried. “Please wake up, please!”

Dwight opened the door, shocked from being woken so abruptly but alert to the tone of Ross’s voice. “What’s happened, Ross?” he asked calmly, sliding his robe on and grabbing a black leather satchel from next to the door.

Blood flooded Ross’s face. “We…we were intimate, and when we…when we finished, I noticed blood, Dwight.” He raised his eyes to his friend. “I was covered with blood. What have I done?” The last was a cry that caused Ross to raise his hands to cover his face, only to encounter the bloodstains he had on them.

“Very well,” Dwight said, taking Ross’s hands in his own and staring him in the eye. “I need you to take a deep breath and calm down.” Ross nodded and took a shuddering breath, then a second before nodding once again. “Take me to her, Ross,” Dwight said. He stepped into the hallway and motioned for Ross to lead the way.

The next twenty minutes were agony. Despite having had a week to get to know one another better, both Dwight and Demelza insisted Ross stay in the room for the examination. He slipped into bed behind Demelza, cradling her against his chest as she lay back, trembling in his arms. And although Ross trusted his friend with his life, seeing Dwight’s clinical hands touch her intimately raised his hackles. Fear and male possessiveness warred; fear won out and he held her hand, murmured softly in her ear during her ordeal. Finally, Dwight drew the covers back over her lap and rose to wash his hands in the ewer.

“Well?” Ross asked impatiently before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, Dwight.”

Dwight shook his head, drying his hands. “There’s no need to apologize, Ross. This has been a harrowing morning.” He returned to their bed and sat down at the foot. Demelza slid in even closer to Ross and he gave her a squeeze of reassurance he wasn’t certain he would ever believe. “The bleeding has stopped and there is no sign that she is in labour.”

Ross felt lightheaded with relief. Demelza all but sagged against him at the words. “Dwight, what on earth happened?” Ross said, dragging his free hand through his hair.

“I cannot say for certain, Ross,” Dwight said. “Thankfully, she does not appear to have any of the serious conditions that can cause bleeding so the most likely cause was your intimacies.”

“Oh God,” Ross said, waves of guilt roiling to life in his stomach. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

Dwight raised his hand. “Despite what others may say, there is no risk by continuing intimacies under normal circumstances. As I mentioned, there are several things that can cause bleeding at this point in a pregnancy. Luckily in this case, there is no indication that either the mother or child is in danger. However, I believe we must err on the side of caution, as we do not want Demelza to begin labouring too soon. First, the two of you must abstain from marital relations until after the birth.” Ross nodded sombrely and gave Demelza a squeeze. She snuggled closer to him in response and he briefly closed his eyes, savouring her nearness. “Second,” Dwight said. Ross opened his eyes and saw Dwight looking directly into Demelza’s eyes, his own eyes filled with compassion. “I strongly recommend bed rest for the next couple of weeks.

“What does that mean, Dwight?” Ross asked. It was a term he’d never heard before, but thought he knew what it implied. And, if that were the case, he knew Demelza would not like it one bit.

“It means precisely what it sounds like: spending most of one’s time in bed. Or, at the very most, limited movement and activity: spending time seated and quiet, either here or in the library.”

“Ross?” Demelza said, her voice breaking.

Dwight continued, placing his hand on her foot. “Once this timeframe passes, Demelza, you will be closer to your time and you should be able to resume some activity, such as short walks if there have been no other incidences of bleeding as we’ve had today.”

Ross peered over Demelza’s shoulder and watched her crumple into tears. Dwight looked at him, helpless. Ross resettled her against him so he could see her face and lifted her chin. “My dear, I am so sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s my fault, Ross. I’m the one who insis—” She stopped suddenly, turning a brilliant shade of red and ducked her head in his shoulder. A shadow of a smile twitched the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Dwight and motioned for him to give them a moment.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Dwight said softly. He stood up from the end of their bed and nodded. “Please let me know if you experience any cramping or if there is a return of the bleeding.” He packed up his kit and made for the door.

Ross mouthed the words, “thank you” and watched as the door latch slid home.

“Judas God,” she whispered, her face covered with her hands. “What must he think of me?”

He tilted his head back down to his wife. “Demelza, he is not judging you. _If_ that were a part of his nature, which it is not, he would have to judge the both of us,” he said tenderly. “We were both eager participants, my love, as you know I will always be. We must set that aside for now, as we knew we would have to at some point.” He kissed her on the nose. “I am so thankful that you are all right, that our child is all right.”

“Oh, I’m that glad as well, Ross,” she agreed, using the sleeve of her nightrail to dry her tears.

He linked his fingers with hers. “I suppose the question to be answered is whether you will be able to follow Dwight’s instructions for staying in bed?”

She gave a slightly strangled laugh. “I suspect it will bore me to tears, but I’ll not risk our girl’s safety just to go on one of my rambles,” she said, her left hand stroking her belly. She flicked a glance up at him. “Well, you finally got your wish, Ross.”

Ross blinked. “My wish? What do you mean by that?”

“I now have to lounge around the cottage, eating sweets and drinking restoratives!” she muttered.

“All I’ve wanted is for the two of you to be safe,” Ross said, indignantly.

“And we will be,” she said, sad but determined. “I promise, Ross.”

He nestled her closer to his body, relishing the warmth of her, the feel of her against him. His hand rested on top of her belly, stroking her skin. Their child moved inside her, and the reassurance he experienced by that gentle nudge was profound. He kissed her, focusing on the pliant texture of her lips against his own. She sighed against his mouth and nipped his bottom lip.

His Demelza and their child. His to care for and protect for the rest of his life. Now more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 Notes: Many thanks to those of you who have given me kudos and comments thusfar. Please keep them coming as they are greatly appreciated! Also, many thanks for those of you on Tumblr and Twitter who have helped with the research for this story and, in particular, this chapter. I struggled with this one and had two other plotlines set up for it that simply did not want to go anywhere. Third time's the charm! So, shout out to the following:
> 
> Twitter: @coolmarg, @followaidt  
> Tumblr: genie1960, shiparker
> 
> Finally, to Jackie -- many thanks for your input and beta on this. This stuff goes deep, and I appreciate your candor, always. Rainpuddle13 and xxsparksxx, my fic buddies. I am so glad you are in my life and are a part of my work. It's a delight!


	6. The Play's the Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Demelza are expecting their first child. Inspired by the 2015 production of "Poldark" with some references to the original written works by Winston Graham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Remember: I’m playing with timelines, things that happened – or didn’t – in the show, who said what and, more importantly, making things a little more… tense between Demelza and Elizabeth. What to know why? Read the books, my friends…

Demelza slammed the book closed and let it fall into her lap. Except that she really _had_ no lap to speak of any longer, which meant the book fell onto the floor with an inglorious thunk. She tried to peer around the great lump that was her stomach to see if the book was damaged; to no avail. “Judas God!” she grumbled.

She’d been stuck in the house for the last week and a half following what was a frightening experience for them – herself, Ross and their unborn child. Thankfully there were no further incidences like what had occurred, but she had experienced a few moments of spotting that both Mrs Zacky and Dwight assured her were completely normal for this stage of her pregnancy. She managed to get a promise from both of them not to share anything that was not normal with Ross, because while she may believe them, he most assuredly would not. And while he was doing his best not to pester her, his hovering-without-hovering was almost as bad as the constant questions and looks of concern he’d had before their scare.

She sighed. It wasn’t fair for her to be so ill-tempered with her husband when all he really wanted for her was for her to be comfortable and well during her final weeks. She thought about all that her late mother had to contend with during her pregnancies and felt guilty about her whinging and moping. He’d being doing everything he could to make her comfortable during her confinement: bringing her books to read, treats to eat (which she did, despite her fears that her face was beginning to look more fudgy by the day). He’d gone into town and purchased yarns, fabrics and ribbons for her to work with and had even picked a posy of flowers to surprise her, leaving it on her pillow to find just yesterday morning. She stopped, feeling the muscles in her cheeks twitch into a smile. They were mostly weeds, she recalled. But the fact he knew how much she missed her flowers; enough to take the time to gather a few for her as a surprise before heading to the mine, made her mood soften, even now.

Still. The lack of activity ground against her patience. She sighed angrily, lifted her swollen feet off the small stool in front of her and swung them down onto the floor. She paused for a moment before she rose to her feet, an accomplishment that was growing more and more difficult to do with any grace, and waddled into the kitchen. As much as she would like to say she wasn’t waddling, that was precisely what she was doing. And it annoyed her to no end.

She’d just reached the kitchen to talk with Jinny about supper when Ross came in. He looked windswept and delicious. Lean and fit in his charcoal grey suit and grey waistcoat, his hair a wild tangle about his head. She remembered a time when he’d been wearing that same outfit and he’d returned from town with ribbons and a book for her, the first gifts he’d ever given her. She’d managed to return the gift by taking him on the kitchen table. It made her ache for him, which made her even more annoyed. It would be some time before she would be able to entertain the possibility of lying with him again, much to her dismay.

The handsome creature smiled at her and it sent a surge of need straight to her womanhood. Damn him. He crossed the room, slipped his arm around her waist – bulk and all – and kissed her nearly senseless. Her fingers flexed involuntarily on the muscles of his upper arms and she surrendered to it. Her lips were not out of bounds, after all.

“Good evening, Demelza,” he murmured against her ear when he broke their kiss.

“R-Ross,” she said, licking her bottom lip to capture the taste of brandy he left there. She watched his eyes darken at her gesture and smiled to herself. Well, at least she wasn’t the only one suffering. “How was your day?”

“A bit frustrating, but much better now that I am home,” he said, giving her bottom a little pinch.

 _Oh, he’s playful tonight, is he?_ she thought to herself. _Not very kind of him when he knows I can do nothing about it._ “I thought Dwight was expected for supper tonight?” she asked, a little sulkily.

He kissed her again. _That_ helped a bit. “Yes, however he was asked to attend to a child with the measles in Truro,” Ross said, shrugging out of his coat and loosening his stock. “He told me to give you his best regards.” He paused, pouring himself a glass of cider. He looked at her over the top of the glass, his lips poised to take a sip. “I think he is taken with you, my dear. Do I have cause to be concerned?”

His voice was teasing, but it needled her. “As enormous as I am, Ross? I’ve a month to go and I’m already fatter than Prudie!”

Ross snorted into his cup and showered his hand with cider. “Honestly, love,” he chuckled, shaking his hand dry. Demelza humphed and handed him a napkin. He looked at her and, setting his cup down, accepted the napkin. Then he frowned. “How long have you been on your feet, Demelza?”

She narrowed her eyes at the tone of his voice. “Only a few moments! I wanted to check on supper!”

“That is what the bell is for, my dear,” he said sternly. He took her hand, tucked it into the crook of his arm and steered her towards the library.

“But… but…” Demelza stammered, looking at Jinny over her shoulder until she was out of view. “Judas God, Ross, must you be so overbearing?”

He calmly seated her in the armchair, walked to the hearth and poured himself a glass of brandy. He turned to face her, his eyes telegraphing his concern. “Demelza, we agreed you would either stay in bed or sit here in the library.”

“But I’m bored, Ross!” she barked. “I’ve read enough to make me wish I’d never learned how, sewn enough to make me want to toss all of my needles into the fire! My back aches and my feet are swollen. I _must_ be allowed to move around or I will surely perish, Ross!” Defiant, she rose from her seat – no easy task, but nothing was these days – crossed her arms over her stomach and wadd – no, walked! – over to the hearth. She turned to face him, feeling mutinous. “It’s almost been the full two weeks. May I please go outside, even if it is only to walk around the garden?”

He frowned again and studied his nails for a moment. She huffed and stomped her foot. He looked up and smiled. “Dwight also wanted me to pass along word that he’s so pleased with how you are doing that you can begin going on short walks around the property, near the house for the next few days. And, if that goes well, longer walks down to the lower field will be acceptable.” He paused, a playful grin creasing his cheek. “Does that please you?”

She was so pleased she was dizzy with it. She wadd – walked! – over to Ross and gave him an enormous kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ross stumbled when Demelza launched herself at him and pressed a kiss against his lips. He righted himself quickly, losing himself in the feel of her in his arms and the taste of her. It was only when he heard the small cough behind them that he realized they were no longer in the room by themselves. He turned and found Jinny standing behind them, her face quite pink. “Please pardon us, Jinny,” he said, his voice low and embarrassed.

Demelza blushed and giggled. It was a lovely sound to hear. Jinny bobbed a curtsey. “Your supper is ready, Cap’n Ross, sir, Mistress.”

He cleared his throat, rubbing his chin. “Thank you, Jinny,” Demelza said, reaching a hand up to smooth her hair. They talked about their day over supper and moved into the library with their sweet – dried apple pie. Ross offered to rub Demelza’s feet, as he had each day since her confinement. It was a time for the two of them to reconnect after a long day, one of the few forms of closeness they continued since their scare.

He sat contentedly on the stool in front of her armchair, massaging her foot, which was indeed quite swollen, and gave her big toe a squeeze. “I’ve a surprise for you, my dear.”

“Mmmm?” she hummed. He looked up at her. She had her eyes closed and looked to be ready to fall asleep.

“While I was in Truro, I came across a leaflet for a group of players who were there. They travel, performing throughout the area.” He paused to begin massaging her other foot, watching as she wriggled the toes of the one he’d just relinquished. “I have asked them to come to the lower field next week to put on one of their plays.” He watched as her eyes popped open and her mouth dropped open to form an “oh” of delight. “You are pleased, then?”

“Oh, Ross yes! I’m that pleased! Thank you!” Demelza exclaimed, extracting her foot from his hands and doing her best to stand up. He hurriedly stood and helped her up and into his embrace. She kissed him soundly, and it made his head spin a little. “Thank you!”

Ross blushed. “I figured it would be a nice treat after being cooped up in here for so long.”

She squeezed him, and he slid his arm around her shoulders. “It is a wonderful treat.”

“So we will start off slow, yes Demelza?” He looked her directly in her eyes. “Walks around the house and yard for the next few days then longer walks, gradually?”

She nodded. With that, he settled her back down in her chair to continue rubbing her foot. “Have you ever seen a play, my dear?”

She shook her head. “No, Ross, never. I remember seeing puppet shows at the fair a few times, but never live players before.” She leaned back but kept her eyes on him. They were the colour of jade, the lashes lowered to hood them. “Have you?”

“Yes,” Ross said, nodding. “Several times in town when I was younger and once while I was in America during my recoup—” He paused. Demelza’s left foot was caressing him through his breeches, making him rock hard and yearning within seconds. It was as if every single thought in his mind fled the instant she touched him. He grasped her foot to hold it still against him. “Demelza, love please.” The desire to rub against her was overwhelming his ability to reason.

“Why should I stop, Ross,” she murmured, wriggling her toes against him, leaving him breathless. His hips moved against her caress and his eyes met hers, dark with want. “Why should you be denied your pleasure, especially if it pleases me to give it to you?”

He closed his eyes again, willing his brain to function. “Demelza,” he gasped, finally taking both hands to still her explorations. She stopped and removed her foot, leaving him bereft and aching, but with more of his faculties returning to him with every second that passed. “Dearest, I have held myself from your attentions in order to follow Dwight’s instruction. And as pleasant as the last few moments have been, it makes me feel bad that I cannot return the favour.”

Ross considered himself to be one of the luckiest men on earth to have a wife who had continued to welcome him to her bed, and eagerly at that, upon learning she was pregnant. He knew men whose wives considered their duty to their husbands complete once they became with child. Hell, his own cousin was whoring around Truro, long after his wife delivered their son. Probably _before_ as well, the fool!

He’d also known that there would need to be a time that they would have to abstain before and after the birth. And it wasn’t as if he’d ever had a problem restraining himself in the past. He’d held himself from engaging in sexual activity for most of the time after his return from America, with one barely notable exception. But now that the time had come, he just hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be.

He was rousted from his thoughts by her wriggling foot, now seated innocently in his hands. “Yes, love?”

She looked at him. “Know that it pleases me to please you, dear Ross,” she said softly.

He smiled and kissed the arch of her foot. “Do not trouble yourself over me,” he murmured, ignoring the dull ache in his testicles.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The fifteenth of May, 1788 dawned clear and bright. Demelza slowly opened her eyes and frowned, reaching behind her to rub her back as she had countless times during the night. She’d been experiencing a dull ache low and across her back since yesterday morning, along with the same kinds of cramps she’d had whenever she and Ross made love. They would come and go, and were more of an irritation; if anything, they kept her awake and remembering.

The man she was remembering stirred next to her, his hair tousled from sleep, his hand reaching for her to spoon against. He curled in behind her, his arm slipping around her belly. The warmth from his body felt good against her back and she snuggled in closer. His length was hard against her, and it made her ache.

“R-Ross,” she sighed throatily. His arm briefly tightened around her, pressing himself tight against the curve of her buttocks before he tensed and pulled back. “Oh, Ross.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his hand moving from her belly to stroke her shoulder.

She shook her head. “I know, this is difficult for you.” She turned her head to look at him. He looked concerned, even though he was still half asleep. All she wanted was to see him smile and laugh again.

“Have you been awake all night again?” he asked, moving his hand down towards her lower back and rubbing in circles. Demelza’s toes curled under the blankets.

She shook her head. “Maybe just the last couple of hours,” she said, groaning when he reached a particularly tense spot.

“Are you up for the walk, my dear?” he asked, the warmth of his hand a balm to her back. She noticed he was careful to keep his hips back and away from her. She pouted.

“It is better when I am walking, Ross,” she glowered. “You won’t keep me locked up in the cottage again!”

He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and she bit her lip. “Only teasing, my love.” He gave her a quick squeeze before climbing out of bed. “Jud is down helping to set things up for the players. I need to tend to the animals before I wash and dress. I will be back in time for breakfast.” He kissed her and proceeded to move about the room, pulling on his work clothes.

She got up herself about fifteen minutes after he left. Prudie had brought up some hot water for her to bathe in before dressing. As she ran the flannel over her extended stomach she saw what looked like a small foot press up against her and smiled. The child’s movements had grown quieter over the last day or so; not enough to cause worry, according to Mrs Zacky. Space was at a premium in there, after all. She finished her bath and dried herself (as best as she could) before putting on one of two outfits that still fit her: a lightweight green skirt with a gold floral blouse that buttoned along the front. She’d made it in preparation for when she was nursing, its current benefit being that she could leave the buttons at the bottom undone to accommodate her bulge. She finished the outfit by bundling her hair loosely on her head, using one of her favourite ribbons that she’d received from Ross so many months before.

She looked in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised by what she saw: cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with excitement, she was ready to head down for breakfast. As she moved towards the door, she stopped and turned to look around the room. The cradle Ross had surprised her with not two days before gleamed under a fresh coat of oil. It had been his own, he’d said, and he’d been restoring it in the barn as a surprise. Demelza herself had sewn and filled the mattress with the goose feathers she’d been saving since winter and a pretty quilted blanket – a gift from Verity – lay folded over the top. Stacks of baby clothes and clouts sat on the nearby trunk. She walked back across to the trunk and picked up the little stuffed dog Ross had purchased in town and laid it on top of the blanket. Satisfied, she turned and quit the room. Her appetite, usually fairly robust in the morning, was nearly non-existent when she reached the kitchen. She nibbled on a scone and sipped her tea before pinning her hat on and taking Ross’s arm to leave.

They walked through the front gate of their property and made their way down towards the end of the lower field. As they walked, a memory sparkled in her mind. “Do you remember the night of the pilchards, Ross?” she asked, her hand giving the arm he’d offered her a squeeze.

He turned his head towards her and smiled warmly. “Of course I do,” he murmured. We walked up to the house along this same path.” He laughed, and she sighed contentedly. She loved his laugh. “You were dancing and skipping along and I had to chase you.”

“Had to?” she queried, flashing a grin at him.

“No, I wanted to,” he said, “very much.” They walked together in silence for several minutes, each remembering. She looked at him, his profile so strong against the blue sky. She wondered if their child would look more like him or her and she found herself hoping the baby had his eyes. Those eyes turned and found hers looking at him. “What is it, my dear?”

She blushed. “Oh, I was only wishing for the baby to have your eyes.”

The brows rose over both of those eyes. “Oh, if it is a boy, perhaps, but you are convinced it is a girl.” He raised her hand to his lips. “She should look like her mother.”

They continued on in silence once again. Demelza experienced another cramp, like the one she had earlier, and tensed her lips against the discomfort. She wished he would continue to speak. It would help her take her mind off the aching. As if she’d willed it to happen, he touched her hand. She relaxed her face and looked up at him. “Yes, Ross?”

“We should decide on a name, my dear,” he said softly. “I know you’ve a list at home. Can you remember them all now?”

She nodded. “There’s Eleanor and Margaret—”

“—Not Margaret,” he interrupted.

She looked at him, a little confused. “All right, not Margaret. There’s Mary and Constance and Julia—”

“—Julia?” he said softly. “Why Julia?”

Demelza shrugged. “I like the sound of it,” she said, grinning. “The way it just slides off your tongue. It’s joyful sounding, I suppose.” She looked up at him, shyly. “Do you like it, Ross?”

He nodded, stopping their forward motion and taking her into his arms. “I do. Julia…”

“And I was thinking Grace for her christening,” Demelza said, her hand running down his lapel. He blinked at her, opened his mouth as if to say something only to close it again. “If this doesn’t please you, we can pi—” He stopped her with a kiss of exquisite love and affection that she forgot all about the ache in her back, the twinging cramps in her lower belly and whatever they were talking about, to focus on the taste of him, the feel of him. Her husband.

He broke their kiss, breathing hard, his hands stroking her arms. “I am that pleased, my love,” he whispered, kissing her nose. He looked back up the valley towards their home before returning his gaze to hers. “Julia Grace Poldark. Thank you, Demelza.” He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow once more and started them on the path towards the red and gold tent nestled under a copse of trees. “And what if it is a boy, then? You’ve nothing in mind?”

She cocked her head. “Well, since I’m certain it’s a girl I haven’t spent any time thinking about boy’s names.”

“How about Jeremy?” he said softly, then raised his hand to return Verity’s wave of welcome.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Here they come!” Verity waved gaily at her cousins and turned to smile at Elizabeth. “They look happy, do they not?”

Elizabeth glanced at them, a smile tipping her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They certainly appear to be.”

Verity frowned and looked at her sister-in-law. None of them had seen Demelza in several months, Ross having explained to them she wanted to stick closer to home during her pregnancy. Verity knew why, of course: because Demelza felt like she was enormous. “Waddling about like an old duck” was the phrase she’d used when she first told Verity of the news. Well, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Demelza had such a healthful glow about her and her husband looked prouder than a peacock about it all. It was clear that Elizabeth’s less-than-kind comment stemmed from jealousy. Today was not a day to ponder over whether there was any reason for her sister-in-law to continue to lay any claims on her first love. If ever. Verity was there to spend time with Demelza and to see how she was doing as her time drew nearer.

She walked up and took her cousin’s outstretched hands and bussed her cheek. “You look wonderful, Demelza,” Verity said.

“Thank you, Verity, I feel well,” Demelza grinned, “I _have_ had a back ache that has been nagging me since yesterday, but the walk has done wonders.”

 _Backache?_ Verity wondered to herself. “I can imagine being limited to staying in bed or seated for the last two weeks was difficult.”

Demelza groaned. “I have to admit I don’t think I ever want to see that embroidery hoop again as long as I live, Verity.”

Verity laughed. “I suspect you’ll be too busy to do much needlework outside of stitching baby clothes and clouts!”

“I’ve finished with those as well!” Demelza exclaimed, waving her hand before tucking it into Verity’s.

“Well you look healthy and glowing, cousin dear,” Verity said, patting her on the hand she held in her own before leaning in conspiratorially. “Nary a waddle in sight!”

Demelza’s eyes widened. “Oh, don’t you start!”

The two women giggled and headed towards the benches. Ross joined them and offered Demelza a cup of cider. She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and it made Verity feel beyond thrilled for her dark-haired cousin; for him to have found such happiness after such a terrible disappointment, yet envious of him at the same time. She didn’t have long to ponder this for the play began.

The players were skilled enough to entertain them with their antics. One, in particular, seemed to draw the attention of several of the men in the crowd. It was as this young woman began a soliloquy that Verity noticed Demelza drop her attention from the play to her lap, the corner of her mouth twitching with discomfort. It was not the first time she noticed her young cousin do this, but it was the first time her right hand slid from her stomach to grip her back. Ross leaned forward to ask her something, the look of concern on his face heart-warming to see.

“It’s just an ache,” Verity overheard Demelza whisper to Ross. “I’ll maybe stretch my legs awhile.” Demelza rose and walked back up the aisle towards the tables where the refreshments were set up. Ross turned to look at Demelza’s retreating back before casting a worried look at Verity. She gave him a brief nod before rising to follow.

Demelza had covered a sizable distance by the time Verity cleared the refreshment tables. She quickened her pace when she saw Demelza’s left hand join her right in pressing against her lower back. NOT just a back ache. “Demelza?” Verity asked, placing her hand between her young cousin’s shoulder blades.

Demelza hissed out a breath. “Maybe the walk was too much?” she asked, her voice reedy.

“No, my dear,” Verity said, “we should get you home. Let me go get Ro—”

“—No, please Verity,” Demelza begged. “’Tis nothing more than some discomfort from the walk. I’ve a month to go! I will be all right once I get home. Can you walk me there?”

Verity warred with herself. In the end, she turned and, slipping an arm around Demelza’s waist, walked up to Nampara.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Demelza stepped through the door to the parlour. She let her shawl slide off her arm. She had a vague feeling of Verity’s hands in her hair – her hatpin – but her mind focused on the searing, unrelenting pain centred in her lower back, a squeezing around her middle and lower down, where her womanhood had begun to throb with pain. _Too soon,_ she thought to herself _. I’ve a month to go, it’s too soon._

“Back so soon?” Prudie’s voice rang out. Demelza didn’t answer, pacing back and forth across the floor as the pain crested and relented. It seemed as if the cramps were coming closer and closer; discomfort so deep and sharp as to steal her breath. _Walk…keep walking,_ she thought to herself until it grew to a point where she groaned, deep and low in her throat. It brought her up short and she placed her hands against the table in front of the window, leaning forward and moaning.

“Oh, I hate to see your pain, my dear,” a voice said. Demelza blinked and realized it was Verity. Sweet Verity, who guided her home. Verity who still mourned so deeply.

“I hate to see yours,” Demelza said, breathing hard. If she could just think about something other than the squeezing and the cramping for one minute… _just one minute_ … “I could prescribe a remedy.” _Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out._ “One that lives near Truro and captains a ship.”

“I never think of him, Demelza,” Verity said sharply, “I pray you do likewise.”

 _Oh God. Oh Judas, it’s coming again._ “I must have something to divert me!” The pain pulled, making her weak at the knees. She felt moisture leaking from between her legs and she pressed them together, mortified. “Ah Judas! Where’s that brandywine?” She hobbled over to the parlour table and poured herself a glass, gulping it down, ignoring the burn in caused in her throat. Verity’s hand touched and rubbed her back and it felt like bliss.

“Perhaps we should go upstairs.”

Demelza panted, pressing her palms against the table as tears of fear filled her eyes. She nodded and cried out. The babe was coming.

They made it halfway up the stairs when her water broke with a gush, soiling her skirt and shift and splattering her shoes. Demelza found herself apologizing over and over again, her left hand now clasped against her groin as they made the turn and continued up to the master chamber. Jinny and Prudie had sprinted ahead of them to prepare the bed, laying out a large sheet of canvas, then two clean sheets. They padded the floor near the side of the bed with a blanket, then lay the trailing edge of the canvas and sheets over the padding and onto the floor. Demelza was confused by this – weren’t they going to lie her down on the bed? Verity interrupted her thoughts, standing in front of her to unbutton the front of her blouse. “We must get you out of your clothes, my dear. Your shift is soaked through. Do you have another? We don’t want you to catch a chill.”

Demelza flapped a hand towards the wardrobe. “Get me one of Ross’s shirts. I…I want to smell him, please.”

Verity’s eyes filled with tears at her young cousin’s pleas and gestured to Jinny. “Hurry. One from the hamper, quickly now.”

Minutes later, Demelza looked down at her now naked body, the one she’d bathed mere hours before, and was shocked as she watched the next contraction change the shape of her belly. She screamed with the pain, certain she was being torn apart, that she would not survive the ordeal. She wept her fears aloud, only to be sheltered in the arms of the women surrounding her.

“I know, Mistress, it feels like ye can’t bear it, but ye can,” Jinny’s soft voice murmured in her ear, soothing and comforting. They slipped Ross’s shirt over her head and she inhaled his scent. She wished he were with her, holding her tight in his arms one moment, and in the next, that he were experiencing – in some small way – the unimaginable pain she was enduring.

Another surge of moisture from between her legs. She reached down, touched her inner thigh and looked down. Blood, brighter red than the smears she’d see on her shift. Her fear grew, as did the nearly overwhelming urge to use the toilet. “Oh Judas, not now!” she yelled aloud.

“What is it?” Verity asked.

“Chamberpot…” Demelza gritted through her teeth.

“No! No, Mistress, ‘tis time for you to push!” Jinny said, her hand clamping onto Demelza’s arm and leading her to the side of the bed. Demelza went to sit on the edge, but was turned and encouraged to kneel. “Kneel here, and hold onto the side of the bed, Mistress.” Jinny’s voice was clear and sure as she helped Demelza down onto the padding. “Push when you feel the urge. I’m right behind you.”

Confused but beyond caring, Demelza settled down onto the padding stiffly and had only spread her knees apart when another excruciating pain squeezed her, stretched her. She bore down once, gritting her teeth and reached her hand down, felt fluid thick and fecund flow down between her legs. A moment’s rest and once again she pushed, her hands back on the bed, gripping with all her strength, and her body quaking with the effort. The muscles of her hips and buttocks shook with the strain, and her throat was dry and aching from panting and straining, groaning and crying.

A third and a fourth time. Verity and Prudie were on either side of her, their hands under her arms, keeping her supported. Demelza’s arms gave out and she leaned her head against the mattress, tears streaking her face. “I can’t…” she wept. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can, Mistress,” Jinny implored, placing a hand at the small of Demelza’s back. “Only a few more!” Demelza nodded weakly, propped herself upright and pushed once more, feeling as though she were being rend in two. She reached down, once again, the pain between her legs stealing her breath away. This time, however, her hand touched something that brought her eyes wide open in a combination of terror and amazement: the baby’s head.

“Judas! She’s there!” she wept, giddy and petrified all at the same time.

“Two more should do it, Mistress!” Jinny cried. “One to birth the head, then one last push for the rest!”

 _Another push_ , she thought to herself, more tired than she’d ever been in her life. She leaned her head against her arm, breathed in her husband’s scent, gritted her teeth and pushed.

Blinding pain. Her flesh split, torn. Strength for the final push came from somewhere, she wasn’t sure where. A slithering mass slipped from between her thighs. Liquid, warm, bloody. Gentle hands removed Ross’s shirt and helped her onto the bed, laying her back, up against the pillows. Cloths pressed against her womanhood, fresh tears now. A warm, wet, wriggling body, lying against her stomach, its head near her breast. High, mewling cries from the baby. Her hands touching its warm, wet back, so small and fragile. More pains, contracting. Hands massaging her belly. Another urge to push and the afterbirth was born.

Her hands cradled her child, who’d already begun to root for her breast. The little mouth found her nipple and drew it in, hard. She winced, then lay dazzled as the small tongue curled around and pulled against it. Never the same. Ever again.

Prudie hustled past with a pan of steaming water. “Not too hot,” Demelza croaked, her voice worn from her labour. She looked to Verity. “Is it a girl?” she asked.

Verity nodded, wiping tears from her cheeks. “She’s beautiful, Demelza. She’s got a little bruise on her forehead, but other than that she’s perfect!”

Demelza wept, her tears streaking down her face and she looked at her daughter, still stained with blood. “Hello, Julia.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ross rose to his feet to clap for the performance. It had been entertaining, but it was his friend Mark’s response to the girl, Keren’s, performance that had him smirking and shaking his head. He’d never seen a man become so besotted with a woman in his life. He leaned in. “Should we expect an announcement soon?”

Mark turned to say something to him but they were interrupted by Dwight grabbing Ross’s arm. Ross turned to look at his friend, who was white faced with what looked like worry.

“You may soon find you’ve an announcement of your own, Ross!” Ross’s smile dissolved within seconds as shock turned his stomach into knots. Demelza! “Take Samuel, Ross. I will follow on foot with Mrs Zacky.”

Ross dashed around the crowds and ran towards where the horses were hobbled. Minutes later, his heels dug into Samuel’s sides as his spurred the horse into a break-neck gallop across the field. Tortured images flashed through his mind: Demelza all alone, struggling with only Prudie and Verity to help her. He’d been so happy to see her out and about with him today, even if it was just to stroll along their land. The last two weeks had been hard on her, and he knew all of his worrying hadn’t helped a damn. He only knew that he didn’t want to live in a world without her and if something were to happen to their child… he couldn’t bear to continue down that path.

He leapt off the horse’s back and broke into run as soon as he entered the yard, Jud spluttering a muttered, “God’s truth, Cap’n Ross, yer like ter break yer neck” as he flew past. He tore into the house, the door banging into the wall, wood groaning in protest as the heels of his boots rang against the flagstones of the outer hallway. He came to a skidding, careening halt in the kitchen. He turned his head from side to side, frantically searching for any sign of people or activity – for surely there must be water to be boiled and linens to be prepared – but found nothing but silence.

Until he heard the faintest cry coming from upstairs.

His eyes widened and his stomach felt as if it had toppled to his feet, the shock of reality striking him where it had been: he was a father. He dashed up the stairs and ran to the bedchamber, sending the door open with an inopportune crash. His eyes captured mere glimpses: Demelza supine on the bed, her skin pale, her hair sweat stained, Verity sitting next to her, dabbing his wife’s brow and murmuring something too quiet to hear. Tiny, mewling protests seemed to reverberate in the room and within his head, making him dizzy with joy.

Prudie was carrying a tiny, squirming bundle, wrapped in linens marked with blood. He saw more blood stained linens on the floor and his heart climbed up into his throat, fearing the worst.

“Ross, please give us a moment,” Verity pleaded with him. Her tone did nothing to calm the fears that were trebling in his mind. She rose from the bed and moved over to where he stood, slack-jawed in the doorframe. She pushed on his midsection, and he released the breath he’d been holding in a whoosh. “There is still work to be done! Go back to the parlour; we will call for you when it is time.” Prudie came over, handed the bundle to his cousin and nudged her out of the way. The servant fixed him with a beady eye and advanced on the doorway.

“But…but...” he stammered as Prudie pushed and shoved him into the hallway, “what is i—” The door slammed shut in his face, mere inches from his nose.

“’ou ‘ave a daugh’er, Mister Ross!” Prudie’s muffled voice rang out from behind the door. “Go on now!”

He stood in the hallway, unable to move a single muscle for what felt like an eternity. _A daughter_ , he thought to himself. _A darling, little girl._ Just as Demelza had claimed, all of those months before! Blinded with elation, apprehension and outright fear, he wandered back down the stairs to the parlour, where he found the brandy and poured himself a glass, downing it all at once before he sat down. He lasted approximately three seconds before he was back on his feet, pacing around the room like a wild cat. He clumsily unbuttoned his waistcoat, ripping it and his topcoat off in jerky movements and tossed them in the general direction of the chair. He missed entirely. He flicked his eyes up towards the ceiling and listened intently for _any_ sound he could discern, concern over what was taking place upstairs growing within him; it had made his stomach twitch with nerves. He tasted bile at the back of his throat, and willed himself towards calmer thoughts, if for no other reason than he succumb to the tears that stung the back of his eyes.

He heard voices coming from the parlour and rushed out of the room. He nearly ran into Dwight as he came in, breathless with a gasping Mrs Zacky close on his heels. Ross looked at the poor woman, who appeared as though she were about to faint before remembering what happened.

“Demelza has delivered a girl.” Ross’s voice was reedy as he spoke the words for the first time. “I’ve a daughter!” he laughed, a little unnerved by the croak of tears at the end of his last word. “They sent me back down here to wait.” He turned beseeching eyes to Dwight and Mrs Zacky. “Please. Please go and see to her… them, please.” Dwight patted him on his shoulder and went over to the decanter to pour him another drink. Ross shook his head. “Go.”

Dwight and Mrs Zacky left the room and headed for the stairs. Ross slumped into the armchair by the fire and speared his fingers through his hair, then covered his face with his hands. He needed to see Demelza. He needed to see her like he needed air in his lungs. If that didn’t happen soon he’d damn _all_ of them to hell and force his way into the room.

He sat in the armchair for what felt like days but was, in reality, only a few moments when Dwight touched him on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Verity stood in the doorway of the parlour, a brilliant smile on her weary face. “You can go up now, Ross,” she said. The fear roiling through him must have been apparent on his face for she walked the rest of the way into the room and placed a comforting hand against his cheek. “They’re waiting for you.”

He was reverent as he made his second attempt at entering the bedchamber, awestruck by the loveliness that lay tucked up, awaiting him. Demelza rested against the pillows, stacked high against her back. She was radiant, her hair a tumble of red-gold silk curling around her shoulders, her eyes a crystalline green. Her beauty in that moment caused his heart to quiver in his chest. He looked down and saw the small, squirming bundle of pink and white clutched close to her body, its mouth busily suckling at his wife’s full breast. The scene beckoned him to draw nearer.

He closed the door, pausing momentarily to remove his boots. One of the boots slipped from his hands and landed with a loud thud. The baby started, soft gurgles and squeaks coming from her at the sound. Ross found himself charmed by her utterances. Demelza winced, her eyes flashing down at their child. “There, there, my lovely,” Demelza cooed, settling the baby back down onto her breast. She raised her eyes to his and they sparkled with joy and unshed tears. He crossed the room and slipped under the covers. Demelza leaned into his embrace in such a way that made him feel fiercely protective and overcome by the love he felt for her.

And then he looked down and caught his first real look at his newborn daughter. Downy lashes swept her cheeks and the palest of eyebrows furrowed in just the same way as her mother’s. An impossibly small cap hid her hair, but he found himself praying it would be fiery red. Her mouth and lips moved restlessly against her mother’s nipple, her cheeks filling with milk with every pull. He reached out a hand to tentatively stroke the small fist that waved up at them, to feel the velvet soft skin for the first time.

He’d once thought the love he felt for his wife was an unexpected gift in his life. The marrow-deep devotion that manifested itself that day in the embodiment of his daughter expanded that love beyond anything he could have possibly imagined.

“How did we make something so perfect?” he whispered, emotion causing his voice to break on the last word.

“I am afeared, Ross,” Demelza said, her voice hoarse. From her labours, he imagined, and the gratitude he felt for her swelled within him. She cradled the child closer to her. “That I love her too much. It will hurt so much more if things go amiss.”

A chill prickled at the back of his neck and he nestled in nearer to them. He stroked the tiny hand once again and the fingers gripped his index finger. He swallowed. “I promise you, I will make the world a better place for her,” he murmured to both of them. It was a pledge, one he meant from the core of his being. “I will be a better man, for her sake.”

“And for me?” Demelza asked, turning her head to gaze up at him.

Ross looked into her eyes. He could see the beginnings of tears glittering along her lashes. Flashes of memories from their first year as man and wife raced through his mind: their passionate lovemaking, filled with exploration and discovery; their courtship and the miracle of falling in love again, something he’d never felt possible after Elizabeth’s betrayal. The first time he’d felt their child move in Demelza’s womb under his hand … seeing her swell with the life they’d created… rubbing her feet at the end of the day, sharing news of the world they were working to build together.

Tears formed in his eyes and he swallowed heavily. “I’m already a better man because of you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her closed lids before tasting her waiting lips.

 

An hour later, Ross stepped out of their bedchamber, holding his sleeping daughter in his arms. Dwight and Mrs Zacky said they wanted to check on some things and encouraged him to spend some time with his little girl. _Julia Grace_ , he thought to himself, remembering his conversation with Demelza from earlier and swallowed back some of the emotions welling within him once more. He moved through the cottage, his lips pressed to her tiny head. She smelled of milk and he smiled. “Julia,” he murmured against her temple. “I am so happy that you are here at last.”

He grabbed a small blanket Demelza had finished just the night before and wrapped Julia to protect her from the wind and stepped out of the house. He walked the baby through Demelza’s garden and out along the bluff overlooking the sea. He wished his daughter’s namesake were here to share this moment with him. Ross had only known his mother Grace for ten years, but in that time she’d made a marked impression in him. He’d loved her so. And he knew she would have loved Demelza; would have recognized the strength his bride had within her.

Julia cooed against his chest. He touched her small back, feeling it rise and fall under his palm just as he’d felt her turn and nudge against his hand from within her mother’s womb only hours before. The vastness of the responsibility he had towards her unfolded itself before him, and it made him lick his lips from nerves. “I will make the world a better place for her. I will be a better man for her sake.” _An awesome promise to make_ , he thought to himself. _Will I be able to keep it?_

Julia pressed her small fist into her mouth and gnawed on it contentedly. _With your mother by my side, I can, my dear girl. With her, I can face anything._

 

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 5 Notes -- Once again, I am so grateful to those of you who have read this work and have given me kudos or comments here or on twitter or tumblr. They delight and inspire me to better, and I greatly appreciate it. This was a very challenging chapter to write, because I wanted to make sure what I wrote was accurate, believable and in keeping with the universe I've been dabbling in these last few months. Having read the books now, I know that the Ross I've depicted has strayed from the way Graham has written him. He's brooding, stoic, nearly pathologically bad with using his words and feelings, often to the extreme detriment to those around him. And yet, we STILL find ourselves drawn to his story. Why? Because of the remarkable woman who stands by his side through their triumphs and their tragedies. As we wait (and wait... and wait some more) for series 2 to air, I think I want to continue to play in the universe I've tweaked a bit, just for a little while longer and I hope you do as well.
> 
> This chapter would not exist if I hadn't had the gracious collaboration with the following people.
> 
> Ao3: Torun  
> Tumblr & Ao3: rainpuddle13, xxsparksxx  
> Tumblr: @shiparker, @mayyourbeardnevergrowthin, @Lakritzwolf  
> Twitter: @MesaJazz1, Genie1960, @FollowingAidT, @Coolmarg
> 
> Jackie, thank you for the marvelous beta work. It's a joy to work with you on these! Rain and Sparks, thank you for your encouragement and friendship. More precious than diamonds! Finally, to Dede AKA Poldark-Things, who creates some of the most incredible graphics featuring our favorite characters from the books we love. She posted this one earlier today... seems fitting to feature it at the end of the piece. Go check out her stuff on [tumblr](http://poldark-things.tumblr.com/) or [Pinterest](https://www.pinterest.com/poldarkthings/)
> 
> At least two more chapters _*watches poor Jackie run for the hills*_ ;-) Take care and see you soon!


	7. Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Demelza are expecting their first child. Inspired by the 2015 production of "Poldark" with some references to the original written works by Winston Graham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: STILL playing with timelines, things that happened – or didn’t – in the show, who said what and, more importantly, making things a little more… tense between Demelza and Elizabeth. What to know why? Read the books, my friends…
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to JHC.

30th of May 1788

Julia’s lusty cry rang off the walls of the darkened master bedchamber. Her father’s eyes snapped open at the sound before sliding half-shut in weariness. Ross had no idea what time it was, the meagre light from the waning moon providing no assistance in the matter. He glanced down at the woman lying in his arms and smiled, despite the nervous agitation the sound of his daughter’s cries always raised along his hackles. He’d been away in town for the last two nights and was very happy to be back with the lovely ladies of Nampara. Demelza always slept through the first cry, and it was true again this time. He watched as she came awake in stages: a crinkle along the bridge of her nose, the furrow of her brow, then a full, wide blink of sleepy sea-green eyes.

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Our daughter is calling you, my love.”

She yawned and smiled up at him. “I’ve missed you, Ross,” she murmured in that way that made him long for her. “And Julia missed her papa.” She sat up against the pillows and touched the side of one of her breasts, wincing. “And I’m missing my girl.” She shivered as she reached down to scoop the baby up from the cradle next to her side of the bed. “Can you stir the fire, Ross? It’s so cold in here tonight.”

He nodded, turning back the covers, and shivered himself, despite the thrice-damned linen nightshirt and drawers he wore. After Julia’s arrival, Demelza insisted that they both wear nightclothes to bed. “There’s no need for her to see her father in naught but his skin, Ross!” she’d chided after he’d given her several pieces of his mind about the idea. In the end, he decided she was in the right of it.

He rose from the bed and moved to the fireplace where he stirred the embers back to life and added wood to help the fire grow. He turned to find that Demelza had slipped free of the top of her night rail, their daughter already nestled in against her milk-heavy breasts. Ross slid down to sit on the bed at his wife’s feet, leaned back against the bedpost and was gifted with the sight he missed most whilst away – the look in Demelza’s eyes when she fed their daughter: meditative, slumberous and filled with love for Julia.

He’d travelled to Truro to meet with his investors and talk with Henshawe and Pascoe about the unsettling drop in the price of copper. Wheal Leisure still produced sizable quantities of copper, but the amount of profit gained from the sale at the copper auction was declining at a slow, but steady, rate. He thought about his new family and the fact that he’d pinned all of his hopes and dreams for supporting them on the less-than-secure world of mining and hoped for better weather to come and improve the likelihood of another banner year of crops to see them through.

The sound of a gentle burp roused him from his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Demelza eyed him, and he knew she’d assessed the shift in his thoughts. “You haven’t said anything about your trip into town, Ross,” she murmured, shifting the baby from her shoulder to her other breast. “Is something amiss?”

He shook his head. Now was not the time for this conversation. “Nothing for you to worry about at this hour, my dear. I shall tell you all about it in the morning.” He rose from the bed, added another log to the fire, and returned to his side of the bed, slipping under the covers to settle close to her. He looked down at Julia, nursing voraciously at Demelza’s breast, and remembered the first time he saw the two of them together like this, mere moments after Julia had been born. He touched the fine cap of red-gold fuzz covering Julia’s head and the small birthmark just on the edge of her hairline, a visible reminder of her swift and difficult arrival into their lives. He took a deep breath, the scent of milk and flowers filling his lungs, and relaxed, contented.

“You’re thinking of the day she was born again, aren’t you, Ross?” Demelza said quietly, looking up at him, her eyes soft and loving.

He nodded. “It was one of the happiest moments of my life, Demelza,” he said simply. He tucked his left arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze as she leaned back against him. He kissed her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair and skin before looking back down at Julia’s mouth, fastened tightly against Demelza’s breast. He could see the blue veins running under his wife’s skin and it made him yearn to trace them with his tongue. His body responded sharply, and he kept himself from wincing from the suddenness of his need. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

She flicked a glance at him and smiled. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.”

Julia released her mother’s nipple with a pop and gurgled.

Thirty minutes later, Julia was changed and tucked back into her cradle. The fire now filled the room with a cheerful light and warmth. Demelza, on the verge of falling asleep, turned and spooned back against him, her hips wedging themselves against his. Ross could not restrain the groan the came from deep in his chest. He turned onto his back, jostling her enough to wake.

“What is it, Ross?” she asked sleepily.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.” His voice was soft, but clipped with restraint.

She turned and rose onto one elbow to look at him. And then she glanced down as he shifted his free hand over his groin. “Oh.”

He looked at her. “It’s all right, Demelza, I’m sorry I woke you,” he apologized. He’d noted the faint patches of lilac that smudged the skin under her eyes. _So tired_ , he thought to himself, _and so little that I can do about it_. “You’ve been on your own here the last two days and you need your sleep. The last thing you need is my tossing and turning keeping you awake.” He turned back the bedclothes and sat up, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll go to the library for a while.”

“No, don’t go” she said, glancing at the sleeping baby once again. “I…I need to talk to you.” She reached out her hand to touch his forearm.

“Won’t we wake Julia?” he asked, the hairs on the back of his arm standing erect, simply from her touch.

“Not if we’re quiet,” she whispered.

Ross nodded and pulled the covers back over both of them. Demelza plumped the pillows and they both lay back, her head resting on his shoulder. He pulled her close, his hand low on her back, and sighed. “Now, my dear, what did you need to talk to me about?”

She laid her hand across his chest. “Ross, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you this for the past two weeks.”

He shifted, worry for her immediately swamping his brain, but he did his best not to jump to conclusions. “Are you all right?” he said carefully, tilting his head to the side so he could see her face. He wondered if she could feel the nerves jumping in his stomach and abdomen.

She nodded. “Yes, I am doing very well,” she said, shifting against him. “You remember when we spoke soon after Julia was born? About the tear?”

He swallowed. He remembered _that_ moment as if it were yesterday. They’d cleared away all of the linens by the time they let him into the room to see her and, admittedly, the instant he saw Demelza and the babe, all concerns flew from his mind. It was only after he returned from his trip out to the bluff with Julia that he was told what had happened. Not because anyone _wanted_ him to know, of course, but because he insisted loudly enough to wake the baby.

The look of maternal rage he’d received from Demelza at that moment for waking the newborn was one he hoped _never_ to receive again.

“Yes, I remember. The tear,” he said softly and placed his free hand across hers, both to hold and to stop her from playing with his chest hair. She did it without thinking most of the time, and it now felt like the most erotic thing she could ever do to him. That combined with the concern gnawing at his stomach made him feel queasy and restless. He looked at her again. “Is something amiss?”

She shook her head. “No, I am healing well.” She paused, nibbling her bottom lip and staring down at their linked hands. “But I was given strict instructions from Mrs Zacky and Dwight that I…that is, that we cann—”

The light dawned. He squeezed her hand. “We cannot resume martial intimacies for some time, yes?” he said gently, finishing her sentence.

She blushed. “Yes, Ross.” She looked up at him. “For another six weeks.”

He blinked, then nodded, doing his best to shield his disappointment. “I expected something like that, my dear.” He smiled at her, reaching down to brush her cheek with his index finger. “In truth, Demelza, after I heard about what you went through that day, it’s a wonder you’d ever care to be with me again.”

Her eyes flew up to lock with his own, shock and dismay etched in her features. “Oh Ross!” she cried, and then lowered her voice. “Never that.” She leaned up, cupping his cheek with her hand and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I miss you very much,” she murmured against his skin. Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape and she drew his head down to hers. He was lost when her tongue touched his own, assailed with his need for her. His arms slid around her as he fed on her mouth, jolts of arousal coursing through his veins to pulse painfully in his groin.

Reason intervened. “Demelza,” he ground out from between his teeth. His hands tightened involuntarily around her waist before releasing her.

She widened her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ross!” She pressed a hand to his chest, inching back from his body to rest on her side of the bed. He turned onto his back, shuddering at the sudden halt of their lovemaking and felt bereft of her touch. As if she heard his thoughts, she gingerly placed her hand on his arm. “That was cruel of me.”

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before opening them to look at her. It was two weeks since she gave birth; a full month since the incident that made her bleed and brought on their enforced celibacy. Since the birth, he found himself aroused by the added roundness to her shape, the way she felt against him when she would seek him out in the night and curl up next to him. Mere seconds ago, her body pressed against his, he’d found himself nearly panting to remove her nightrail so he could revel in her softness. There were times he felt like an animal in rut, the way he would leer at her when she was changing for bed.

Especially when he’d seen evidence that her ordeal was not over. He’d noticed the blood staining her shift and the linens she would use to fashion undergarments for herself, despite her efforts to keep it from him. He’d also noticed how gingerly she would sit on the parlour benches and the settle near the fire in the library and knew her to be in great discomfort.

And he wondered if _she_ would ever care to be with him again? He wondered if he could ever bring himself to put her into a situation where she would have to endure the entire pregnancy experience again! _But that’s a lie_ , he thought to himself. He already knew if he were given the go ahead to return to her bed as her husband he would do so in a heartbeat.

 _Get a hold of yourself, Poldark,_ he berated himself. _The woman just spent eight months carrying your child_. _She doesn’t need to worry about your rapacious appetites. If needs must, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had to take care of it yourself._

The subject matter of his recent discussion with Demelza caused him to remember – with distaste – a conversation he’d had with Francis at the Red Lion following his meeting with Henshawe and Pascoe, just before he’d ridden home that evening. Based on his demeanour (not to mention his smell), his cousin had clearly been suffering from overindulgence involving brandy, cards and trulls. Francis had motioned him over for a conversation, the nature of which had stuck with him all the way home.

_“Enjoying the peace and quiet during your time away from Nampara, Ross?” Francis slurred lightly over his glass of brandy._

_Ross frowned. “Peace and quiet?”_

_“Yes, of course, Ross! You’ve got a newborn in the house. No doubt you’ve found your sleep disturbed by your daughter’s insistent wail.”_

_Ross’s frown deepened. He had, of course, noticed the change in his sleeping habits, but accepted that as simply a part of new parenthood. By the way Francis was speaking it was clear he begrudged it. “I’ve no complaints, cousin. I lose more sleep over the falling price of copper.”_

_“Well, it’s still early days for you, Ross,” Francis continued. “You’re still enamoured by the newness of the situation. The shine will fade when it comes time for you to return to your wife’s bed.” He snorted derisively. “I can count the number of times I’ve been invited back on the fingers of one hand.” He raised a fist and laughed._

_“See here, Francis,” Ross hissed, temper flaring. While he no longer harboured feelings of love for Elizabeth, he found it thoroughly distasteful for her husband to speak of her this way. “Have some respect for your wife.”_

_“Oh, she is a paragon, Ross,” Francis sneered sarcastically, yet Ross thought he could see the torment that hovered at the back of his cousin’s eyes. “She is perfection. So perfect to have managed to bring a son into the world for me.” He downed half his brandy. “I don’t envy you, man. You’ll need to plead with your bride to welcome you back to bed if you care to have a son to inherit. I’ve no need to bother any longer, thank God, and can seek the attentions of the fairer sex in more… pleasurable locales.”_

_Francis tipped his glass at someone over Ross’s shoulder. Ross turned, following the direction of his cousin’s gaze, and saw Margaret on the other side of the room. Ross knew Francis had availed himself of her services a year ago, but the glance between the two of them made it clear that their dalliance continued._

_Ross turned back to his cousin and felt his stomach roll. The prospect of seeking relief in the company of a whore nearly made him vomit. It would be a violation of the love and respect he had for Demelza to even consider it._

“Ross?”

Her soft voice drew him out from his dark and disturbing thoughts and he looked down at her. The fire made her hair glow like the copper he chased at Leisure, and was just as precious and rare. Her eyes were troubled, the furrow of her brow creasing her forehead. He drew her into his embrace and kissed her forehead. “We will wait six weeks, six months, six years if we must, my love,” he whispered in her ear. She drew back, those brows now raised over incredulous, teasing eyes. “Well, perhaps not six years.” She giggled and kissed him. “We will go at the pace you set. Agreed?”

She nodded. And then yawned hugely. He chuckled. “Time for some sleep before Julia wakes again!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Demelza woke to find Ross gone. She had vague recollections of hearing him move about the room as he bathed and dressed for the day but was in a bit of a fog from the night before. Julia had woken three more times in the night, each time whimpering her need for her mother only loudly enough to draw her from her light sleep. Ross, meanwhile, had slept like the dead. The baby was particularly difficult to put down in her cradle after her middle feeding of the night, and Demelza found herself pacing around the room, humming gently to try to get Julia to settle for what felt like hours. She brought the baby to their bed, Demelza lying with her between them as she nursed once more, dozing herself from time to time, until they’d both finally fallen fast asleep.

As she woke, Demelza found her hand touching their girl’s stomach, which rose and fell with her breathing. She thought of all the things that had changed in her life, just over the course of two weeks. She often thought of her own mother and wished she could have talked to her about what she was experiencing: the tingle that would course through her breasts as her milk came down, the deep satisfaction when her daughter’s stomach was taut and full and the smell of the baby’s skin after a bath. The indescribable joy that Julia brought into her life filled her with warmth as she watched the baby slowly open her blue eyes and stare blurrily up at her.

Yes, the joys of motherhood were limitless, but there were things about it that caused her worry, now that she knew about them. She had snorted when both Dwight and Mrs Zacky told her she could anticipate being confined to the house for at least a month. _What for?_ she’d asked them. Well, _now_ she knew. The tear was healing well, as she’d told Ross, but she was ready for the hot, achy feeling between her legs to disappear, not to mention the bleeding. And the cramps! They’d started when she’d first nursed the baby, the intense pains warring with any pleasure she may have derived from feeding her child. Mrs Zacky told her it was her womb returning to its usual size. She was glad when their frequency diminished so she could sink into the almost hypnotic pulling sensation she would experience whenever Julia nursed. She was also tired: very, very tired. She was a woman of boundless energy when she and Ross were first wed and now felt like she could take a nap standing up if she needed to.

Moreover, there were times when she would find herself to be inexplicably sad, for no apparent reason. She had nothing to be sad about! She had a lovely home, a handsome, doting husband and a beautiful child to call her own. There were so many women who would give everything they had to trade places with her, yet there were times when she would like nothing more than to run away. She felt guilty beyond reckoning the instant the thought crossed her mind and would bury it deep into the corners, praying it would never resurface.

One thing that made her sad was missing her husband. Despite her discomfort, there were times she would wake to find him spooned behind her, deeply asleep but hard and hot, pressed against her, and it would make her ache in an entirely different way. She’d given thought to turning over one night, to take him in her hand, or her mouth, to stroke or caress him to completion, just to hear the sounds coming from his throat, the groans and whispers of satisfaction resonating in her ears, against her throat. But that required energy, something she simply didn’t have.

But she missed him, desperately. Missed feeling his hands on her skin, his teeth along her neck, his tongue… She groaned, the sound making the baby start and cry.

“Shhh, my lovely,” Demelza crooned, picking up the baby and rocking her gently before lowering her shift once more. She winced a little, her nipples particularly sore that morning. She would endure it for now, and then ask Jinny if she could watch Julia while she bathed and tended to her injuries.

An hour later Demelza was descending the stairs to the kitchen, Julia in her sling around her shoulders. She felt a little better while getting dressed that morning in that she was almost able to button the bottom button of her nursing top. It was the same one she’d had on when she’d gone into labour and remembered she had to have the bottom three buttons loosened in order to wear it two weeks ago. As much as she was ready to take every one of her maternity gowns and shove them deep into one of Ross’s sea chests, she was no where near ready to move back into the gowns she had worn before she began showing back in February.

The one thing no one had warned her of was how radically her routines would change, all due to the arrival of her little girl. She’d been forced to wrap her head in a kerchief this morning because her hair was a nightmare. She’d woken to find several strands lying on her pillow – all of the glorious hair she’d grown seemed to be falling out in clumps! – and she hadn’t had time to truly assess the damage before she needed to head downstairs. She also hadn’t had a chance to bathe for almost two days; she had hoped to take a quick sponge bath this morning, but hadn’t remembered to make arrangements before bed for Prudie to make sure water was brought up in the morning. She was forgetting a lot of small details – like the water or making sure the clouts were washed every day – as she had during her pregnancy. Now, with the lack of sleep and all of the new and overwhelming responsibilities she had to consider, she feared she’d reached the point where she would have to start writing everything down.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and dashed tears off her cheeks – when had they shown up? – and heard bickering voices in the kitchen. Her brows snapped together and she marched into the kitchen where she found Jinny and Prudie sniping – over what, she had no clue. “Jinny! Prudie!” she hissed, her hand covering the baby’s head, hoping the noise would not wake her. “I cannot have you fighting in the house where you will wake up the baby! Now, I’m going to put her down in the parlour. Prudie, can you please bring two buckets of water up to the master bedchamber and put one on to boil for bath water? I am bound and determined to do that as soon as I get a bite to eat.” Prudie scampered out of the room without a backwards glance. “Jinny, may I have a dish of tea and something light in the parlour? Then I need to speak with you about the menu for next week. And once Prudie returns from upstairs I need to talk with you both about chores. Thank you.”

She marched into the parlour before Jinny could say anything and lay Julia down in the little cot they’d set up in there to keep her while they ate their meals. She noticed the log box was empty. She swore under her breath and went into the library to grab two logs and was hustling them back into the parlour when Jinny came in to lay out breakfast.

“Mistress!” Jinny exclaimed. Demelza jumped and dropped the logs. They hit the flagstones with a crash and woke Julia with a start. The child’s screams echoed off the stone walls of the room. Demelza looked around the room and dropped her face into her hands, the tears falling hard and fast.

“Mistress, you sit down right now,” Jinny coaxed, taking Demelza’s arm and leading her into the chair at the head of the parlour table. She placed a pillow down on the seat and eased Demelza gently into the chair, patting her shoulder. “Don’t worry about the baby, Mistress. Drink your tea, here, and I’ll settle her back down.”

Demelza was only cognizant of one thing: her child was crying, therefore she must need her mother. But Demelza was so tired. She lowered her hands and saw Jinny expertly scoop the baby up and into her arms, rocking her back and forth and crooning to her. The baby began to settle and was soon only uttering short, squeaking cries, not the ones that signalled a need for food. Demelza felt the tension in her shoulders ease and reached out to pick up her teacup. By the time she finished, Prudie had been upstairs and back, water delivered, and Demelza had a fresh scone and jam in front of her. Jinny handed the Julia back to Demelza, picked up the logs and laid them gently on the fire.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Mistress,” Jinny apologized, bobbing a deep curtsey as Demelza slipped her daughter back into her sling. “I’d only just noticed the wood box being low when you came downstairs. That’s what me an’ Prudie were arguing about.”

Demelza blotted her face with a handkerchief she’d dug out of her pocket. It smelled vaguely of spit up milk. She gave a small, choked laugh and felt the tears welling up in her eyes once again. “Jinny, I’m so tired I don’t know what to do.”

Jinny looked around the corner into the kitchen to see if Prudie was there before she sat down on the bench opposite Demelza. She touched her mistress’s hand. “The first few weeks are terribly hard, Mistress,” Jinny confirmed.

“Jinny, how you managed with your little Kate so soon after Jim—” She stopped, noticing the girl’s eyes cloud over with sadness and was very moved. “Oh Jinny, I didn’t mean to bring up such a sad memory for you,” Demelza murmured.

Jinny shook her head. “It was sad, ‘tis true, Mistress,” Jinny recounted, dabbing at her face with her hand. “But I had my mum to help me, someone who knew what I was going through.” She paused. “I know I’m here to serve you and Cap’n Poldark. I know my place.” The maid looked Demelza squarely in her eyes. “But I can serve you as a friend sometimes, too, yes Mistress?”

Demelza nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “You may indeed, Jinny.” She nodded towards the kitchen. “Why don’t you brew up some more tea and join me in here for a while?”

Jinny rose from the bench, bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, Mistress.” They spent the next hour discussing some of the physical and emotional challenges that had been plaguing Demelza for the past several days, and what she learned was sobering, but revealing as well. Jinny said she’d experienced a horrible depression after Kate was born. She’d attributed most of it towards Jim’s imprisonment, but when she’d confided in her mother, Mrs Zacky had told her it was common for many women to feel a sadness they couldn’t explain. She confirmed the energy drainage, and also recommended Demelza drink plenty of water to help with nursing. Demelza crinkled her nose at this, for she struggled to drink the glass or two of water she’d have throughout the day. Jinny also mentioned it would be good to have some more barley the next time Jud went into town for supplies. Barley, Demelza learned, was excellent for milk production. Finally, the maid gave Demelza a salve her mother had prepared to help with her cracked and sore nipples. It was scented with peppermint and would not harm the baby if she were to get some in her mouth.

Julia began to rouse from her nap, and the noises she made were enough to cause Demelza’s firm breasts to tingle in preparation for nursing. She looked inside the sling at the face of her daughter, and much of the sadness she’d experienced only moments ago disappeared when she looked into the tiny eyes surveying her face. Jinny rose and peered around Demelza’s shoulder, her own face lighting up. “She is such a beautiful child, Mistress,” Jinny whispered. “Have a seat here by the fire. I’ll bring your wrap to you.”

Demelza nodded, rose from the table and settled into the rocking chair, expertly unbuttoning her blouse with one hand while stroking Julia’s back through the sling. Within moments, the baby was busily suckling. Jinny brought the wrap over and placed it around Demelza’s shoulders. Demelza looked up at her young friend. “Thank you, Jinny, so much. You can’t begin to know what the last hour has meant to me.”

Jinny smiled, her eyes sparkling. “I’m happy to answer any questions you have, Mistress.” She bobbed a curtsey and went to turn but stopped and tilted a tentative gaze. “I know I can’t answer _some_ of your questions, Mistress.” She paused, her eyes widening with meaning.

“Questions? Oh!” Demelza squeaked, realization dawning on her at once. Jinny hadn’t known her husband’s touch after her Kate was born because Jim was already in prison.

Jinny’s face was bright pink with embarrassment. “But if you think of something you want to know about…that…I know me mum would be happy to help.”

Demelza nodded, her own face warm from the conversation. “I would like that very much, Jinny. We started to talk about it, after Julia was born, but I… I wasn’t quite ready to ask for details. Do you think she would mind coming up today? Perhaps for tea?”

Jinny beamed. “She’d be happy to, Mistress. And, one last thing?”

“Yes, Jinny?” Demelza said, smiling down at her daughter before looking back up.

“Leave the logs and the chores to Prudie ‘n me,” she gently insisted. “We’ll be better about keeping up. And if there’s something we don’t do proper, you let us know the way you want them. Let us serve you, Mistress. And you get some rest.” The maid bobbed a final curtsey and left the room.

Demelza frowned at herself. She’d always struggled with turning over the day-to-day tasks required to run the home over to the servants, considering it was only a year since she herself was one….

 _A year,_ she thought to herself. It had been exactly one year since she’d walked into Ross’s bedchamber in that blue satin gown. One year since her life had changed, forever, and the two of them began their slow, winding trip towards loving one another. The memory of that night came to her, sharp and vivid as if it were yesterday. She was soon awash with memories of her life with Ross, the intimacies they’d shared, and some of the fantasies she had that they hadn’t yet had a chance to bring to life. _There is still time_ , she thought to herself. She just needed a little push in the right direction.

She looked forward to her visit with Mrs Zacky.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dwight rode into the yard at Nampara for his weekly supper with the Poldarks. He was looking forward to seeing his friends again, especially little Julia. Three weeks had gone by since the baby was born and he still marvelled at how well Demelza had done in such a short period of time. He told her so, the day the baby came and they were getting her settled in for the night. She was pleased as well, before he told her the back ache and cramping she’d started having the day before had been the start of her labour. At that, she’d blinked at him several times before sinking onto the bed with a dazed “Judas God” whispering from her mouth. Then she beamed at him. “I was labouring for a full day and didn’t even realize it?”

He nodded. “Yes, you were. You did a marvellous job, Demelza.”

“I think I’ll be rather good at this in the future, Dwight!” She giggled, and Dwight recognized the euphoria held in her laughter. He’d hoped she would be carried on its wings for many more days. Now, three weeks later, he hoped to find her doing even better.

He swung out of the saddle, just as Ross came out of the barn. Dwight blanched. His friend had what appeared to be blood and other offal up to his elbows and on the front of the heavy canvas apron he wore. “What in God’s name are you doing, Ross?”

Ross laughed. “Our sow farrowed this afternoon, so we’ve been tending her. Ten piglets!” He grabbed the handle of the pump and washed most of the material staining his arms off before reaching around to untie the apron. He gave that a good sluicing, hung it on the line overhead and shook most of the water from his hands before mopping them on his shirt. “I’ll have a proper wash inside. How are you?”

“Busy, which makes me very happy,” Dwight grinned, following Ross towards the house. “I was over in Sawle until it was time to come over here: the Reverend Odgers’ son with a gripe of the guts. He’ll be fine in a day or two. How is life here?”

“Well enough,” Ross said a little distractedly. He slowed his pace before stopping altogether. Dwight could hear the lilt of Demelza’s voice coming out of the kitchen window. “Before we go in for supper, let’s go to the front yard. There’s something I wish to talk to you about.” He eyed the door to the house. “Privately.”

Dwight nodded. “Of course, Ross.” He was a little confused, but figured it must have something to do with Demelza. They made their way to the front yard. Demelza’s flowers were in riotous bloom and the smell of the sea coming up over the bluff made Dwight envy his friend, and not for the first time. “I envy you, Ross,” he stated.

Ross turned, arching a brow. “My charmed life?” He bent to pick a bluebell and turned it in his fingers.

Dwight smiled. “Is it not charmed?” he asked, raising his hand to the cottage then the view from the bluff. “Has it not comfort and purpose and certainty?”

The corner of Ross’s mouth twitched up into a wry smile. “This is Cornwall, Dwight. Nothing is certain.”

Dwight frowned. “Anything the matter, Ross?”

Ross shook his head. “No, not exactly, but I would like to talk to you about Demelza.” He raised his eyes to the upstairs window for a second, his face turning ruddy with what looked like embarrassment before continuing in a lower voice. “To preface this, I want to make it clear I ask these things, not from a desire to place any pressure on my wife in any way.”

Dwight knew what was coming and sought to ease his friend’s discomfort. “This has to do with the restriction on marital intimacy, does it not?”

Ross nodded. On the one hand, it was quite remarkable to see a man like Ross Poldark, master of a mine and squire to the land and tenants, practically shuffling his feet in uncertainty. Then again, this was his friend, and he hated to see him so discomposed. “Ross, ask me anything and know that I understand your questions to be coming with the very best of intentions.”

Ross released a breath Dwight didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you, Dwight.” The questions tumbled out in a rush: what did he need to be prepared for once she was completely healed? Was there anything he could do to help her be more comfortable when she accepted him back? The two men talked in hushed tones and covered a great deal of ground. “ _If_ she is interested now – mind you, chances are she’s still adjusting to the demands of motherhood and will be too fatigued for much interest – you could initially engage in non-penetrative caresses.” He paused. “Do I need to be more specific, Ross?” Ross shook his head, not meeting his eyes. Dwight smiled with relief and continued. “Once she is completely healed, which should be in another week if not sooner, you may begin to assess her readiness to resume penetrative intercourse.”

Ross blinked and stared at Dwight. “Assess her readiness? How?” He rubbed his hand over his face.

 _God._ “By using your fingers, Ross.” It was Dwight’s turn to blush.

Ross’s hand stopped its progress over his face. He jerked it in front of him and stared at his fingers for a good five seconds. His face was aflame. “Oh. Yes. I understand.”

Dwight cleared his throat. “She may also experience a lack of…lubrication during arousal so I suggest you plan to have some kind of oil at the ready when the time comes.” Ross nodded. He looked positively miserable. Dwight bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, compassion winning over humour. “Listen, Ross. I’ve seen the two of you together. The love you have for one another is the other thing I envy in your life and I hope to have it myself someday. You will both find your way back to one another, of that I am very certain.”

Ross smiled, and the tension that had been visible in his shoulders and neck receded. “Thank you, Dwight.”

“Good day, Dwight!” Demelza said, waving cheerfully down at them from the opened window above.

Dwight’s stomach lurched and a sidelong glance at Ross confirmed he’d experienced a similar feeling. They turned their heads at the same time. “Good day, Demelza! You look well!” he croaked.

“We’ll be in shortly, my dear,” Ross rasped, not raising his gaze from the lilac bush growing not more than two feet away before he jerked his head towards the path back to the back yard. Dwight looked at Ross out of the corner of his eye and knew they were both the colour of boiled beets.

When one is discovered in a pickle, it is sometimes best to beat a hasty retreat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Demelza saw both men’s faces turn nearly purple when she greeted them from the bedchamber window. She decided to wait until Dwight was gone and they were alone upstairs before she rounded on her husband. “All right,” she whispered, laying their sleeping child in her cradle before turning to look him in the eye. “What on earth were you and Dwight discussing?”

Ross blinked and shrugged out of his waistcoat. “Discussing?” he said softly. He made an effort to keep his eyes hooded by his damnable lashes.

She walked over to where he stood, fingers on his stock. “You know precisely what I am talking about, Ross. The two of you had your heads together, so focused on your conversation you didn’t even hear the squeak of the window hinges!” She put her hand over his fingers and peered up at him. “I will have it known to me, husband.”

Ross frowned, cheeks turned ruddy under her gaze. “I was asking him for advice.”

Demelza narrowed her eyes. “About what, Ross?”

“I wanted to find out what would and would not be permissible between us in the coming weeks,” he admitted, finally meeting her gaze.

Demelza felt like she wished he hadn’t. “Oh Ross, how could you?” She took her hands off Ross’s stock and covered her cheeks. They felt as if they were aflame. She was already embarrassed enough about Dwight’s involvement with her pregnancy – she still blushed when she thought of how well he knew her – and now this?

“It is not because I wish to pressure you into doing anything, my love!” he hissed, looking cautiously at the sleeping baby. He caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him, one hand reaching for her chin to lift her face to his. “I swear it, Demelza. I wanted to know so that when the time comes, because I know it will someday, I will be prepared to do whatever I can to make it easier.”

She strained against his hold on her, her uncertainties and insecurities growing turbulent within her. She and Mrs Zacky had had a frank and explicit discussion about the very same subject not more than a week prior. Demelza had been trying to figure out how best to bring up it with him, yet here he was, standing here ready with answers he’d gleaned from his friend.

She pushed on his chest. “Let me go.” Ross released her immediately and she glowered up at him before turning to unbutton her blouse.

“Why do you turn from me when you undress for bed, Demelza?” Ross’s voice was soft in the air. She felt tears bottling up her throat. “You do not wish for me to look upon you?”

She nodded her head, clearing her throat before she attempted words. “Yes, Ross. I’ve changed so much.”

She felt the heat of his body against her back and his hand on her shoulder. She sighed in resignation and turned. His eyes were filled with compassion, desire and concern, and they shattered what little composure she had left. She burst into tears. Ross pulled her against him, holding her head against his chest and muffling the sound of her sobs. His consideration for Julia, even now, only made her cry harder. He attempted to calm her, murmuring words of love and praise in her ear, gently rocking her as they stood in front of their bed.

Eventually, her sobs diminished and she sniffled, rubbing her face against Ross’s shirt and hearing him chuckle, his arms tightening around her. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, her temple before drawing back to capture her mouth with his. It was a kiss filled with longing that turned her bones to jelly. Her arms tightened around his back and she simply contented herself in enjoying their embrace. Eventually, he broke their kiss, leaning back to look into her eyes. Eyes she was certain were nearly crossed with want by now. “Am I forgiven?” he asked.

“For what?” she asked, having completely forgotten why she was angry with him in the first place. The scoundrel’s kiss could always do that to her! Ah yes. Dwight. “Yes, I suppose.” He smiled, brushing away the remnants of her tears. _Judas, my face must look a fright!_ she thought to herself. “Do we discuss this now or in the morning?”

“I suggest we do it in the morning,” Ross said. He covered a yawn with his hand. “We could both use the sleep while we can get it.” He smirked. “I fancy she’ll be awake again soon.”

Demelza laughed ruefully. “She will indeed.” She looked at him, stroked his cheek. “It’s hard for me to believe you desire me, Ross, changed as I am.”

He kissed her, hard, his tongue tasting her mouth before he drew back, nipping her bottom lip. “I do, my love. I always will. Never doubt that.” He turned his back and walked over to his side of the bed, preparing for bed.

She looked at his broad shoulders, the play of muscles along his back, his breeches riding low along his hips to reveal the upper curve of his buttocks. _And I, you,_ she thought to herself.

Julia only woke twice that night and dawn found the three Poldarks snuggled in the big bed. Demelza had finished nursing and lay with her husband behind her, his arm heavy around her waist and her daughter in front of her, making gurgling sounds. One particularly loud sound alerted Demelza it was time to change her daughter. She carefully slid out from under Ross’s arm and was rewarded with a snuffled, sleepy “’melza” in return, which made her smile with warmth. She scooped up the child and took her over to an old chest where they housed the baby’s things. A few moments later, the baby was clean, changed and swaddled down into her cradle.

Demelza slipped back into bed and nestled against her husband. She started when he wrapped his arms around her. “Ross!” she whispered, “Did we wake you?”

He nodded but drew her closer. “No matter, my love. ‘Tis almost time to rise, anyway.” He stretched his legs and opened his eyes. “Shall we continue our conversation from last night?”

She nodded. “Here or downstairs?”

He looked around. “I think this is the perfect place for the conversation, my dear.”

They spoke in hushed tones, sharing the things they’d learned from their respective teachers, smiling at the similarities in the conversation.

“Demelza, I hope you realize I only want to be prepared if and when you decide you wish to explore our return to one another.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Ross. And I do want us to be together again. I’m so tired much of the time. But I’ve been working on that, letting Jinny and Prudie assume more responsibility; even if they aren’t able to do things to the way I might like for them to be done.” She flicked a glance at him. His smirk made her narrow her eyes. “Yes, I know. ‘You’re mistress of Nampara.’”

He gave her a squeeze. “Well, you are.” He kissed her. “And about the other?” He moved his hand to her stomach, still soft from carrying their child. “Can you trust me when I say I find you desirable, my dear?”

She sighed. “I think I can, Ross. Mind, it doesn’t mean I’ll be content staying like this.”

He appeared thoughtful, as if he were trying to make up his mind about something. He propped his head on his hand, looking down at her. “You remember when you first came to Nampara?” She nodded. “You were naught but skin and bone from starvation. We were able to change that here, through your good cooking, a clean bed and rest.” He stroked her cheek. “You’d lost that sharp boned look. Became the woman I wanted, yearned for before I even realized it.” He kissed her deeply and her toes curled with pleasure. “To see you now, rounded and soft, more womanly than ever before, makes me feel good to know I’ve been a party to your blooming, Demelza, because that’s what has happened, my love. You have bloomed, blossomed like one of your flowers outside. And it’s a beautiful thing to see.”

“Oh R-Ross.” Demelza felt a tear slip and fall into the shell of her ear nearest the pillow. His words touched her, warmed her to overflowing. “Thank you.”

He brushed her lips with his. “No, thank _you_.”

 

Later that day, Demelza rose from her nap and stretched, feeling more energized than she’d felt in a long time. She checked the baby, who was sleeping soundly and wandered downstairs to the parlour. She found Jinny working on some mending. “Good afternoon, Jinny.”

The maid looked up, bobbed her head and smiled. “Afternoon, Mistress. Can I get you anything?”

Demelza shook her head, rummaging around in her sewing basket. “I thought I would join you for a while.” She found some yellow ribbon and embroidery thread and sat in the chair opposite. “How have things been going between you and Prudie?”

“Fine, Mistress,” Jinny assured her. “She’s so taken with little Julia she’s happy to do whatever she can for the little mite.” Demelza smiled and began to stitch. The idea had come to her when she was bathing Julia. With her month of confinement nearing its end, they would need to begin plans for the baby’s christening soon. Demelza thought that Julia should have a little something to remember the day by, so she began to stitch the baby’s name on the yellow ribbon.

She’d been working for a while when a knock rang out on the door. Jinny rose, setting her mending down and went to open the door. “’Tis Mistress Poldark from Trenwith,” Jinny announced.

Demelza looked up from her stitching, her stomach lurching unpleasantly. Elizabeth entered the room, wearing her deep teal riding costume and plumed tricorn cap. She was beautiful, slender, refined. Everything you are not, a nasty little voice sneered from the recesses of her mind. Demelza gave herself a mental shake and rose from her chair.

“Please, don’t get up,” Elizabeth insisted, nodding her head towards Demelza.

“Uh… Ross isn’t here,” Demelza said softly, “and Julia’s sleeping.”

“Tis you I came to see,” Elizabeth confirmed, smiling.

Demelza was surprised. “I?” she nearly stammered. This woman had been her rival for so many months and, in many ways, remained so. Was she here in friendship? To see how motherhood had changed her? She struggled to regain her composure. “Uh…some refreshment?” She made a gesture to Jinny who started for the kitchen.

Elizabeth shook her head. “I beg you, do not trouble yourself.”

Demelza motioned towards the seat Jinny had vacated moments before. Elizabeth moved around and sat on the stool. Demelza picked up her sewing and sat down.

The two women were quiet for a moment. Demelza nearly jumped when Elizabeth next spoke. “That’s very pretty,” she said, nodding towards the sewing in Demelza’s hands.

Demelza looked down at the ribbon and blushed. So simple. “Oh, it’s just a fancy I had, to make her a keepsake.” Nothing like what she was certain Geoffrey Charles had received. She looked up at Elizabeth. “I know it is not made of gold or silver…or even copper.” She smiled warmly, looking at her stitches.

“It’s made of something more precious,” Elizabeth mused. Demelza raised her eyes to look at the woman across from her. “A mother’s love for her child surpasses all other loves, does it not?”

Demelza smiled and looked back down on her sewing. “I’m not sure Ross would care to hear that.” She flicked a glance up at Elizabeth.

“Nor Francis,” she admitted, her eyes downcast before glancing at Demelza. The smile she’d had on her face faded. “Men do not understand such things.”

Demelza’s brow furrowed for a moment before returning to her stitching.

Elizabeth stayed a few moments longer before congratulating Demelza on Julia’s birth and departing. The visit stayed with Demelza for the rest of the day. Something Elizabeth had said struck her as odd. “A mother’s love surpasses all other loves.” It was true, she did not know how deeply she could love her child, love being a mother until it happened to her. She knew, deep to her soul, that she’d fulfilled her life’s purpose. She would defend her child with the last breath of her body, if needs must. But she hadn’t forgotten that she was a wife as well, and the love she felt for Ross had the power to consume her, as much now as it had in the early days of their life together. It, too, was soul-deep, another purpose for her life fulfilled when she was in his arms. She knew she would love him until she took her last breath.

But to choose one love over the other? How _could_ she, when they were inextricably bound together by the presence of Julia? Without him, Demelza thought, she would not have her child. The love she had for both of them surpassed any love she may have had once for her father, the love she’d had for her mother. It was the love of both her husband and her child that she needed in her life. She knew she must find a way to balance the needs of both in order to have them both. And she was determined to do so.

The baby cried from the bedroom. Before Demelza could mount the stairs, Jinny had retrieved her and brought her down to the parlour. “Thank you, Jinny,” Demelza said, grateful for the help. As she settled down to nurse she made a realization: it hadn’t hurt to sit in the rocking chair. She smiled to herself, making a mental note to check her wrappings to see if there was any blood on them. She sincerely hoped not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 notes: My heartfelt thanks to the following folks who provided their time, personal stories and friendship during the development of this story and, specifically, this chapter:
> 
> Twitter: FollowingAidan  
> Tumblr/Twitter: Genie1960  
> Tumblr: Rainpuddle13, xxsparksxx, Torunwrites, Lakritzwolf, annaania01, mayyourbeardnforevergrowthin. I forgot to thank both Lakritzwolf and mayyourbeardnforevergrowthin for their help with chapter 5. I'm so sorry for the oversight and thanks again for your help!
> 
> My thanks to those of you who post your kudos and comments for me, they really make my day, they truly do. Finally, my thanks to both FollowingAidan and Sherylyn for the beta.


	8. Explorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Demelza are expecting their first child. Inspired by the 2015 production of "Poldark" with some references to the original written works by Winston Graham.

Ross looked up from his work when the library door opened and smiled when Demelza’s head poked in from around the corner. “Good evening, my dear,” he said, rising from the desk and walking towards her. She raised her lips to his for a gentle kiss. “Finished with the dealings of the household?”

“ _That_ work is never finished, Ross,” she quipped brightly. “I wanted to ask you a favour.”

“Of course,” he murmured, swinging the door open to beckon her forward. She shook her head. He saw a glowering Jud standing behind her, two buckets of water in his hands. He frowned at the man before returning his gaze to his wife. “What can I do for you?”

“I wish to have a bath, but the baby is not cooperating by going to sleep,” she said. Ross could hear Julia fussing in the cot by the parlour fire. “Can you watch her for me while I bathe?”

Ross blinked, nerves causing his stomach to tremble. He’d not done much in the way of caring for Julia beyond helping Demelza tuck her into bed or pick her up to bring her to her mother. His first attempt at changing her was an absolute failure from the baby’s perspective and hilarious from Demelza’s. To be honest, it was something he’d been wanting to discuss with Demelza for some time; in truth he was ashamed at how little actual parenting he’d done since Julia arrived in their lives.

“Of course I can,” he said softly. “I’ve finished here for the night so the timing is perfect.” She beamed at him. He looked up at his servant. “Jud, I’ll take the buckets. You’re dismissed for the evening. Thank you.” Jud set the buckets down, touched his forelock and left, faster than Ross figured he could for a man his age. “I’ll bank the fire in here and in the parlour and be up as soon as I can.” She kissed him again, lingering over the task a little longer. Long enough to raise the hairs along the back of his neck and stir his loins. She broke their kiss, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight. The rush of unmitigated lust that ran through him in that moment scared him. He took a deep breath. “I’ll be up shortly.”

She nodded, walked into the parlour and scooped up the fractious baby and headed towards the stairs. Ross turned and walked to the hearth, his pulse thundering in his ears. He thought she was initiating… something between them. Could that be the case? They still had another four weeks to go before he could return to her as her husband. He thought back to the conversation he had with Dwight, wondering if it were now permissible to begin exploring that path towards reunion. He shook his head and squatted to bank the fire. _Go to her and ask her what she wants_ , he thought to himself. _Get this finished and go up to them. They are waiting._

He shouldered his way into the bedchamber, carrying the two large buckets of warm water. Demelza had lit the candles and started a fire. She was walking back and forth in front of the fire, doing her best to keep the baby calm. The squeals coming from the swaddled bundle clearly marked the baby’s intent to be anything but calm. He set the buckets down near the tub, pouring first one and then the other. He smiled and walked over to her. “Is there anything I need to do for her, Demelza?”

She shook her head. “She’s been fed and changed, so she should be fine for now. The best thing to do is walk with her, keep her moving, gently of course. She should go to sleep soon.” She tilted her head up to him, her eyes sparkling. “I hope.”

Ross held out his arms, gathering his daughter in close to his chest. “Hello, my girl,” he said, softly. The sound of his deep voice made the baby startle at first. Demelza laughed and Ross looked up at her, pained. “She doesn’t know my voice.”

She gave him a squeeze. “We will remedy that, my heart.” He warmed. Demelza had started using more endearments around him of late, first one then another as if she were trying them out to see which one fit him. This was her particular favourite at the moment. He rather liked it a lot. “I’ll only be a moment.”

He looked at his wife and kissed her. “Take all the time you need, my dear. Do not worry about us.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, brushing his lips with her own once more before leaning down to kiss their daughter on her forehead. She smiled, turned and gathered her soap and linens.

Ross watched her movements as she collected her things before being distracted by tiny fists waving up at him. He looked down to find Julia staring up at his face, her eyes wide and slightly crossed as she peered up at him. “Hello, Julia Grace,” he murmured, rocking her gently in the cradle of his right arm, brushing one of her fists with his left hand. He heard a splash and his eyes drifted from Julia’s enchanting face to the slender column of his wife’s naked body, her back facing him as she lowered herself into her bath. He swallowed hard, shifting his eyes to his daughter once again. She was gnawing on her fist, whimpering against her fingers. He shushed her gently, fingers brushing over the fine red-gold fuzz on top of her head. “Your mama has had a hard day and is taking her time with her bath so you will have to make do with me for now.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, breathing in the clean smell of her skin.

He spent the next twenty minutes, roaming around the bedchamber with the baby, whispering tales he remembered from childhood, about sea monsters, silkies and gnomes that lived in the old mine shafts. He talked to her about Darkie and Rose, the pigs and the oxen, about Jud and Prudie. But mostly, he spoke of her mother and how she loved her flowers, her beloved Garrick and her delight at the world around her. He described how much he loved her, loved them both beyond anything. Through it all, Julia smiled and grimaced, gurgled and cooed up at him, absolute trust and reliance upon him to keep her safe from harm.

He leant down to brush a kiss on Julia’s forehead and winced; she had clamped her chubby fist around several locks of hair and gave a solid tug. “Judas,” he hissed as he felt several strands part company with his scalp.

“Is something wrong, Ross?” Demelza called out from across the room.

He untangled the baby’s fingers from his hair, still clinging to her prize. _The little minx_ , he thought to himself. “No, nothing’s wrong, my dear,” he muttered with a grin, arching a brow at his daughter. He began to move again, this time making sure to keep his head out of reach for her questing hands. “You can keep those, but I need the rest.”

She gurgled up at him and promptly stuffed them into her mouth. He spent the next several moments picking them free, for it stood to reason that a one month old should not eat her father’s hair, if he could help it.

“It’s awfully quiet over there,” Demelza said. Ross looked up and saw her pouring rinse water over her body and felt his own tighten in response. It was going to be another long night. No matter, he thought to himself, settling into the armchair nearest the hearth, the baby held against his chest. Moments later, he noticed her body felt heavier against him and he peered down to find her eyes closed, her breathing steady and slow. She was asleep.

He rose from the chair, Demelza’s startled eyes following him as he walked over to Julia’s cradle and gently laid the sleeping baby within. He tucked in her blanket, pressed a kiss to her head and stood up, smiling broadly. “She’s asleep,” he whispered, walking around the bed towards where Demelza stood, covered with a bath linen and smelling of roses from her soap. He held out his hands. “May I?”

She turned pink and extended the linen to him and stepped out of the tub. He caught glimpses of her body as he ran the cloth over her, doing his best to approach the task as mechanically as he could, only to find himself lingering over her shoulders, her hips and legs before rising to press the cloth against her breasts and stomach. He stepped closer to her, breathing in the scent of roses from her neck before dropping the cloth on the foot of the bed and closing his hands on her shoulders. He leaned back to look into her eyes. “Demelza, you are so beautiful,” he whispered before pressing his lips to hers. He felt her hands circle his waist and she leaned into the kiss. A great shudder passed through him and his hands tightened on her upper arms, drawing her against him.

Several moments later, she leaned back, breaking their kiss and looked up at him. “Ross,” she murmured. “I want to be with you.”

Ross swallowed, the tightness in his groin nearly unbearable. “We’ve another month, I thought.”

“Before we can fully be together, yes,” she said, running her hand up and down along his waist. “But I believe there are some things we can try.” She looked up at him. “I’ve missed you so much, and tonight’s the first night I feel like I won’t go straight to sleep the minute my head hits the pillow. I’d like to spend that time with you.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice. She reached up to unbutton his waistcoat and he began to tremble. He leaned down to brush her lips with his. “You set the pace, love. Let me know if I go too fast.” He stole another kiss from her, taking her upper lip between his to nip and was rewarded with her sigh. He caught her chin between his thumb and index finger. “Promise to tell me if we have gone far enough, for I don’t want to hurt you.”

She nodded. “I promise.” She continued to strip him of his clothes, fingers flying along the buttons of his waistcoat, hands shoving his braces from his shoulders. She stepped back to work on the buttons at his wrist and he chuckled at the sounds of grumbling frustration she made with the task.

“You are the one who keeps sewing them back on, Demelza,” he murmured in her ear as he nibbled along its graceful curve.

“You are distracting me,” she quipped as the second button came free and she pulled the tails of the shirt free from his breeches. Ross smiled and reached behind him to haul the shirt over his head and shoulders. She stepped back, her eyes gleaming with desire as they swept over his naked torso. His own eyes shifted their gaze to her breasts, so full now. Demelza blushed, her shyness returning as she cast her eyes down, her hands covering her belly.

Ross stepped forward. “Would you be more comfortable in your nightrail, my dear?” He prayed she would say no, but he wanted her to relax.

She swallowed and shook her head. “No shame between us, remember?”

He sighed with relief and lifted her chin. “No shame.” He looked down at his feet. “Can you help me with my boots?”

She smiled brilliantly. “Yes, Ross. I have missed that.” He sat on the edge of the bed while she knelt before him. His hands went to her hair to untie the ribbon that held it up, rejoicing as it tumbled over his hands and down her shoulders. He leaned forward to breathe in its scent.

“Shall I help you with your bath each night, my dear?” he asked as she worked on the second boot.

She looked up and smiled. “I would like that very much, Ross.”

They were silent as she finished the second boot and he stood up to release the buttons on his breeches. Her hands stilled him. She leaned her head against the hardened length of him, trapped within the fine lawn fabric. He gasped and his knees buckled when she pressed a kiss against him. “Demelza, no,” he hissed, reaching for the bedpost with his right hand. “I’ll not last long if you do that.”

She looked up at him and rose to her feet. “Then let us go to bed and see what happens.”

He nodded, watching her as she walked around to her side of the bed, checked on the baby one last time, then climbed in and under the bedclothes. Ross unbuttoned his breeches and shoved them off his hips, down his legs and left them where they fell. He changed out two of the guttering candles by the bed for fresh ones; watching her face, her gaze avid on his cock, as the candles flamed to life. He slipped under the bedclothes and opened his arms to her. The feel of her body, naked against his in their bed for the first time in what felt like years was almost too much to bear. He captured her lips with his as they exchanged the first deeply erotic kiss in two months. They shuddered against one another, each swallowing the other’s moans of gratification and bliss.

Ross shifted, his mouth following the curve of her jaw to her neck, hands clasping her hips and buttocks as he moved towards her breasts. His tasted her skin, his lips and tongue seeking her nipple with mindless abandon. He was dimly aware of her voice calling his name over the hum of desire ringing in his ears when a cascade of milk filled his mouth.

He jerked in surprise, his eyes jolted open by the taste and feel of the liquid streaming into his mouth. He released her nipple, raising his eyes to hers, finding her red-faced with embarrassment. “Oh R-Ross, I’m s-so sorry!” she stammered, pressing the sheets against her body, staining them with milk. “I tried to stop you, but…oh Judas, it felt so wonderful to have you touch me again.”

Her eyes began to fill with tears and he shook himself from the shock that captured him, spellbound by the experience. “Demelza,” he said, scrambling up to gather her into his arms, to hold her. “Please don’t cry! You’ve nothing to be sorry about.” He crooned her name in her ear, over and over again as her tears began to dry, her hiccupping sobs receding. He peered over at the baby’s cot, marvelling that she remained asleep and silently thanked her for it.

Demelza dried her eyes on the sheet and raised them to meet his. “I’m so embarrassed,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Of what, darling?” he asked, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. “Is that not something that can happen sometimes?” He did remember Dwight mentioning the phenomenon to him during the talk in the garden.

“Yes, but I hoped it wouldn’t since I fed Julia before we started all this,” she said. She pressed her hands against her breasts. “Oh, I think they’ve stopped but I’m not certain.” She looked at him, sorrow filling her eyes. “They leak, all the time it seems.” She looked towards the end of the bed and flapped her hand at the bath linen. “Can you hand me the linen, Ross?”

He nodded, reaching forward to gather it and handed it to her. She wrapped the bath sheet around her breasts, binding them to her chest and slid under the bedclothes.

The mad, raging desire that had coursed through him was receding, too, leaving an intense ache in his scrotum that made him wince to move. He leaned back against the pillows, closed his eyes and moved his hand down to press against his sex, breathing in and out through his nose and willing his body towards calm. It was difficult, however; remembering the feel of her skin against his hands, the taste of her milk still on his tongue. Several moments passed before he was able to open his eyes and face her. She’d turned over, her back towards him. Seeing her shoulders, hunched in what looked like defeat did more to cool his ardour than all of his own efforts combined.

“Demelza.” He rolled onto his side and reached for her, pulling her back around to face him. She peered up at him, still red with embarrassment. “We need to talk about this, dearest.”

She uncrossed her arms from in front of her chest and sank against him. “Ross, I’m s—”

“—Demelza, if you try to apologize again I don’t know what I will do,” he said firmly. He tilted her head up to look her in the eye. “I was startled, yes, but that does not mean I was bothered by it.”

She looked at him, her eyes piercing his own. “You truly were not disgusted?”

Ross jerked back as if he’d been slapped. “Disgusted? By something as natural as that?” He gathered her against him and laid his hand on her breast. “I was surprised.” He paused. “But since Julia was born, I’ve envied the closeness she shares with you, nursing at your breast. The time she gets to spend with you, nestled so close to your softness.” He cupped her breast in his hand, running his thumb across it. “These were mine to touch and caress for nearly a year, and now I must share them with our daughter. And yet I feel guilty about some of the things it makes me feel when I see you with her. Is it right for me to wish to take her place and trace the deep blue veins running just under your skin with my tongue? To feel your nipple, so hard and ripe, in my mouth? And so tonight, my chance to touch you and taste you arrived and I swept down upon it, not remembering what I’d been told until it was upon me.” He stopped, looked deep within her eyes. “Shock, at the strength and the miracle of it all. The desire for you unlike anything I have ever known before.”

He kissed her, his eyes shut so tight he swore he could see stars behind his lids. “Thank you, my dearest love, for sharing this with me tonight.”

Demelza brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Oh Ross,” she murmured, nestling her head under his chin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

They lay quietly for a while, fingers linked and resting on his stomach. Still slightly dazed by what had occurred, Demelza focused on what it was like to be held like this by Ross once again. The initial flame of desire had settled into a warm glow, and she closed her eyes, once again delighting in the feeling of his strong hands on her body, powered by their want for her. She wished for them to be on her again, despite the lingering embarrassment of what happened.

After a few moments, Ross cleared his throat. “May I ask you a question, Demelza?” She nodded, peering up at him. “What did you feel when it happened? What is it called again?”

“It’s called letting down, or that’s what we say when it happens: my milk is let down.” Her cheeks burned once again, and he kissed her forehead. “There’s a tingle that I feel when it happens. Sometimes it comes slowly, other times – like tonight – it comes very quickly. It’s usually strongest when I hear her cry, so when she does I must get to her quickly or I can begin to leak. It’s one of the reasons I usually have her with me in the sling or in her cot or cradle next to me.”

“Is it easier for you to nurse her here in bed?” he asked. “There are times when I find her in bed with us.” He smiled. “Some of my favourite times are when I wake in the morning and see the two of you next to me. It looks like the two of you have drifted off to sleep right in the middle of things.”

She smiled, tucking the sentiment he shared with her into her heart. “Sometimes that’s exactly what happens, Ross.”

He turned onto his side and propped his head on his hand to look down at her. He stroked her hair and cheek, his hand moving down to cover her breast through the bath linen once again. She felt her nipple tighten under his palm. “When she’s nursing,” he said softly, “sometimes it looks like it hurts.”

The heat in his gaze made her heart quicken. “It can sometimes,” she admitted. “Because I must nurse her so often, the nipples can become cracked. And they can bleed.” She smiled at the look of concern on his face. “It didn’t hurt tonight, when it happened between us. Mrs Zacky gave me a salve to help with it.”

“You look so contented when she’s nursing,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the nipple.

Need for him speared from her breast to her sex and it made her clamp her legs together. “It almost feels like I’m being rocked in a boat, the rhythm of it, can put me into a daze.”

He kissed her. “And when it happened between us?” he asked. “Beyond the embarrassment?”

A pulse of need beat low, inside her. “Wanting you,” she said simply. “Like it was clawing up inside me, Ross.” She reached up to stroke his chest, her fingers threading through the thick hairs to touch his own nipple. She heard his breath catch in his throat and smiled and looked into his eyes. “What I feel for you, my desire for you is strong. Has always been so strong. But never like that, before.”

He swallowed. “I’m glad, Demelza. What I feel for you is strong, too. Almost unbearable at times.” His eyes darkened, trained unblinkingly on her mouth and made her feel breathless. He groaned a little, turning onto his back and rested his left arm over his eyes. She looked at him and brushed her lips over his jaw. She slid her hand down his abdomen, feeling the muscles quiver under her touch. He stopped breathing. He raised his arm, turning his head towards her, his eyes wary. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing, Ross?” she murmured softly, continuing her hand’s journey down his abdomen. She slipped her hand under the sheet and stroked him.

His entire body stiffened under her touch. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned aloud.

“Shhhh!” Demelza hissed under her breath, grinning with excitement. “You’ll wake Julia!”

He flung his arm over his mouth and groaned again into the crook of his elbow, the movements of her hand became more rhythmic and deliberate. It was the first time she’d touched him like this for over a month and it fed the pulse in her groin. It was an ache _decidedly_ unlike the one she’d endured following Julia’s birth.

“Demelza,” he whispered, gasping and thrusting, faster and stronger, against her hand, “we don—”

“Hush, my lover,” she breathed into his ear. “Let me do this for you.”

He groped with his free hand to cover hers, showing her how he liked to be held and stroked. He groaned against his arm, sweat beading up on his chest and stomach as his movements became more erratic. Pearls of liquid formed along the tip of his cock and she reached forward to catch them with her tongue, the bitter taste remembered fondly from days past. Her action drove him harder, panting against the hand he used to cover his mouth, his eyes fixed on her and what she was doing to him. Seconds later, he choked out his satisfaction through gritted teeth before wrapping her into a crushing embrace. She lost herself in his kiss, and it made her skin shiver under his touch.

As they separated, he looked down into her eyes, a half-smile teasing his mouth. “That was a lovely surprise, Mistress Poldark,” he murmured, brushing her temple with his lips. He tilted her head up, his hazel eyes filled with longing and questions. “I know I can’t join with you for another month, although the thought of being inside of you once again haunts my dreams, both waking and sleeping.”

His words made her curl her toes. “For me as well, Ross,” she said, struggling to keep a sob of need from her voice.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before fixing her eyes with his, now the colour of the forests near their home. “Is it permissible for me to return the favour, Demelza?”

His hands were inching the sheet up and away from her legs, his fingers stroking the skin along the back of her thighs. She sighed and shuddered against him. “I can’t think when you do that, Ross.”

His head slipped down to press kisses along her neck while his hands moved up to caress her lower back and hips. “I would very much like to touch you, my love… to give you pleasure,” he whispered. She felt him smile against her skin before he shifted his gaze back to hers, and she noticed the concern within his eyes. “But I do not want to harm you.”

She smiled and guided his hand to her mound. “I’m not bleeding anymore, and I’ve healed, but I’m not ready for much, Ross.”

He slipped his middle finger between the lips of her sex and stroked her bud. She jolted and gasped. “Like that?” She nodded dumbly. She could feel herself growing thick, slick under his fingers. She sighed his name as he stroked her faster, her hips rising and falling to meet his caress. His drew the bath linen away from her breasts, his lips, teeth and tongue fastening to her nipple, drawing it into his mouth. She felt her milk stream from her breast, but she was beyond caring. Her hands were clamped around his wrist, thrusting against him until she called out, the waves of her orgasm shuddering through her body. He raised his head from her breast and slid up the bed to capture her cries with his mouth. The taste of her milk was strong on his tongue. She trembled, the sensations so welcomed within her.

His hand gently cupped her sex as they kissed, savouring each other’s mouths in their lassitude. Her hand brushed against him, only to find him semi-erect once again. He raised his head from their kiss and shook his head. “Another time,” he murmured before kissing her again.

Another time, she thought to herself. There would be more than enough time for them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next day, Ross was out in the near field, ploughing the rich, black earth in preparation for planting. The day was unusually warm so he’d shrugged out of his waistcoat and shirt, enjoying the feel of the sun on his back. He clicked his tongue at Darkie, starting another row, and estimated he’d be finished well before lunch. He looked up as he neared the end of the row and saw Demelza walking towards him with a smile, their baby swaddled in a sling and held tight to her chest. He beamed; it was the first time she’d ventured past the garden since Julia’s birth and he counted this as a milestone in her recovery.

He also realized she was back in her stays for the first time in a month. Another milestone for her, and although he was quite content to see her body loose and unencumbered, the added structure of the stays made him appreciate what he saw, very much. She wore one of her blouses and he noticed she was able to button it all the way down to her waist. He knew she must be content with that accomplishment.

She still bore some of the roundness she carried during her pregnancy, changes he continued to appreciate and find very beautiful, even if she didn’t necessarily agree. She had full, graceful arms and beautiful, curving hips and thighs. Her bountiful breasts filled the top of her bodice enticingly.

His body responded instantly and he hoped she wouldn’t notice. He cleared his throat.

“How did you get past Prudie, my dear?” he asked, bringing the big horse to a halt and pulling his wife and child in close for a cuddle, sweat be damned. Prudie had formed a deep attachment to the babe from the moment of her birth, and had taken to maternally clucking around Demelza’s heels like one of the chickens his wife loathed.

Demelza arched a look into his eyes. They were bright and sea-green, lit with the sunshine that made them sparkle within mischievousness. “Oh, I have my ways, sir.”

He kissed her impertinent mouth. God, he loved her. “You’ve come out a distance from the house today,” he remarked. He narrowed his eyes, turning serious. “ _Should_ you have done?”

She huffed out a breath of frustration. “Not you too, Ross!” She looked down into Julia’s sleeping face and ran her finger along the downy cheek. “Honestly, I feel better when I’m moving around, and the fresh air feels good in my lungs after being stuck in the house for so long.”

He gave her a squeeze around her shoulders and ran his hand along the length of her right arm. “As long as you do not overtax yourself, my dear.” She nodded. “I should be finished in an hour. Is that a good time to come up for dinner?”

“Yes, that’s perfect, Ross,” she said brightly, her frustration flitting away like a leaf on the wind. “Verity is coming over to discuss the christening.”

He pressed a kiss onto her lips then leaned down to brush his lips on the baby’s forehead. Julia opened her eyes at his approach. They gleamed a pale blue in the sunlight and he was dazzled once again. “She is beautiful, is she not?” he asked, gently stroking his daughter’s tiny hand. The fingers gripped his smallest finger, and he couldn’t help but notice the tiny nails that bit into his skin.

He turned to look at his wife and found her gazing up at him, a tear rolling down her cheek. He brushed it away, a knowing smile forming on his lips. “I love you, too, Demelza.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Verity arrived just as Demelza and Jinny were finishing up preparations for lunch. “It is wonderful to see you up and about so soon, my dear!” she exclaimed as Demelza rushed to her to give her a hug of welcome.

Demelza stepped back and grinned broadly at her. “I feel very good, Verity. It does me well to be up and away from the house. I know Dwight and Mrs Martin said my confinement should last longer than this, but I felt like I was being suffocated by the indoors!”

“You’re not overdoing it, are you?” Verity said, arching a brow of concern.

Demelza frowned. “That’s the _third_ time I’ve heard that comment over the last hour,” she huffed. “I will give you the same promise I gave to Prudie and Ross: I will rest as soon as we finish luncheon. Will that satisfy you as well, Verity?”

She nodded. “Of course it will. Now, where is my darling niece?”

She loved coming to visit her cousins at Nampara. It gave her much needed time away from Trenwith, where the atmosphere was tense and cold. Her brother Francis was often gone to town, doing what she didn’t want to imagine. But she heard enough of the rumours to know. It made her feel ashamed of him, made her feel horrible for poor Elizabeth. She was thankful her sister-in-law had Geoffrey Charles to dote upon and occupy her time. Verity hoped it would be enough. She’d had ample time to get to know Elizabeth well enough to recognize a troubling aspect to her personality: Elizabeth had a thirst for admiration, and would seek it whenever possible. She’d witnessed it in her interactions with George Warleggan during dinner parties, as well as with her cousin Ross from time to time. It was the latter situation that bothered her the most, for Elizabeth had nearly shattered her cousin’s heart irreparably when he’d returned from the war and found her engaged to his own cousin.

Verity had feared the loss of Elizabeth would bring about Ross’ end; his despair so great. The gratitude she felt towards Demelza, therefore, was boundless, for she felt the bright, spirited young girl had saved him from a life of loneliness and misery. And, as a result, she would do just about anything for her new cousin. Planning a christening was one of those duties she’d taken on with relish.

She was sitting by the fire in the parlour, cuddling with the baby, when Ross came in from the fields. She heard his entrance rather than witnessed it.

“Ross Vennor Poldark, we’ve company in the house and you’re making a mess of my kitchen!” Demelza screeched at the top of her lungs. Verity got up and hurried over to the door to the kitchen where she saw her cousin, bare from the head to his waist and dripping water all over the floor Verity knew Jinny had just finished sweeping.

He glowered at her. “Would you have preferred I come to your table covered with sweat and dirt before we eat?” he barked. His eyes darted around the kitchen, noticing the eyes of three women staring agape at him and coloured. He cast about the room, looking for something with which to dry himself. Jinny, red-faced from her efforts to keep from giggling, handed him a length of bath linen from the clean laundry near her feet. He snatched it from her hand before pausing. “Thank you, Jinny,” he said, the heat gone from his tone.

He hastily began drying himself and flicked a glance in Verity’s direction. His gaze softened. “It is good to see you, cousin,” he said, first starting towards her then coming to a stop when he remembered his state of undress. He gestured towards the stairs. “I will be back in a moment.” He nodded at Demelza, who continued to glower at him, fists on her hips. “Pardon me, Jinny, Demelza.”

Jinny dropped a curtsey and turned back to the hearth, her shoulders twitching with amusement. Demelza nodded in return, her glower morphing into a smile of such intimacy Verity wondered if she should return to the parlour. He grinned back and turned to go up the stairs.

Demelza’s eyes followed him as he bounded up them, two at a time. She burst into laughter as soon as he made the turn and turned her mischievous gaze in Verity’s direction. “Oh, I had to poke at him a bit, Verity!”

“You _are_ feeling better!” She smiled. “I’m very glad, cousin.” She took a sip of tea. “I have checked with Reverend Odgers and the church is available for the christening on the fifteenth of June, Demelza.”

The gaiety that danced in Demelza’s eyes immediately tempered into reserve. “But that’s only two weeks away!” she exclaimed. “Don’t we need more time?”

Verity knew this event would cause her young cousin a great deal of anxiety. Any time there was the possibility of the two sides of Ross’s world – gentry and common – coming together, Demelza was thrown into turmoil. “Having the event sooner rather than later will keep some from being able to attend, which may work in your favour, Demelza.”

“I’d just as soon have two parties, one for his sort and one for mine,” Demelza said, worrying her bottom lip.

“What’s this I hear?” Both of the women turned to find Ross entering the parlour, his hair in damp curls rioting around his head, wearing a fresh linen shirt and cravat. “ _Two_ parties? To what purpose?”

Demelza twitched a frown from her lips and shifted her gaze at her husband. “One for your sort and one for mine, Ross.” She sank down into her seat. Verity followed suit.

It was Ross’s turn to frown, and he did so ferociously. “That’s utterly ridiculous, Demelza,” he said, sitting down and snapping open the serviette to lay it across his lap. “It is long past time for you to be seen as the lady that you are, the mistress of Nampara!” Jinny served the soup quickly and scurried out of the room. Verity wished she could do the same. “I say this, not to pretend that you do not come from where you do, but to say once and for all that it _no longer matters_.”

Verity took one look at Demelza’s face – pale and showing glimpses of the frightened kitchen maid she’d once been – and felt her own brows snap together. She turned to her young cousin. “Demelza, I was wondering if I might have some of that wonderful pickle relish you made to go with the rabbit?”

“Of course, Verity.” Demelza nodded absently, blinking several times as if clearing Ross’s outburst from her mind. For now. “I’ll go and get some from the larder.” She rose from the table. “If you will excuse me?”

Verity whirled at Ross the moment Demelza left the room. “Ross, you may no longer wish for it to matter,” she hissed, “but the fact is it _does_ still matter to many here in the district. Just because you wish it _not_ to, will not make it so, my dear.”

“Then we will not bother inviting those… individuals who consider my choice to be beneath them,” Ross muttered moodily.

Verity cleared her throat. “You know you cannot do that, Ross. You cannot ignore the people who may have differing opinions on your marriage, because you rely upon many of them for your business and you know it.” She paused for effect. It worked, for he nodded in agreement. “Demelza’s plan for two parties would alleviate the discomfort for both sets, and would ease her trepidations. How can that not be a benefit for all concerned?” She arched a brow at her cousin.

Ross put down his glass of wine. “When did you become such a skilful debater, Verity?” he grumbled. Verity grinned, for she knew she had won. He glowered into his soup bowl before taking a spoonful. He stopped, closing his eyes for a moment. “My favourite.” He blew out a sigh. “I’ve really done it now, haven’t I, Verity?”

“Not irreparably,” she whispered as Demelza returned to the room with the jar. Verity watched as Ross rose from the table and walked over to his wife, removing the jar from her hand. He kissed the inside of her palm. “I’m sorry, Demelza.”

Demelza nodded once, patches of pink showing high on her cheekbones. He helped her to her seat before returning to his own.

“So!” Verity said cheerfully, placing her own serviette into her lap and picking up her soupspoon. “If the plan is to have two parties, we will need to have the actual christening moved up a day, to the fourteenth, if the church is available. I will call upon Reverend Odgers to see if it will work before I return to Trenwith this afternoon.” She paused, looking to Ross and Demelza for their consent. They both nodded. “I will send word as soon as I find out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The rest of their luncheon, whilst delicious, was less sunny than it had started, and the business of the two parties was decided with none of the excitement or levity that passed earlier between all three of the Poldarks. Demelza did the best she could to contain the tears that threatened to spill and lost the battle after she’d excused herself to attend to Julia’s needs. She allowed the tears to fall whilst she sat in the library and fed her daughter, absently wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron.

She knew Ross would be frustrated with her plan for two parties because he simply had no patience for the strictures of society in which they lived. He was able to move between the two worlds with little effort and if there was gossip or sniping, he simply chose not to listen or participate in it. He had the weight of the Poldark name to shield him. It was quite different for Demelza, coming from where she did, from what she was, to be elevated as she had been. She felt she had to be twice as good at anything in order to be seen as barely worthy enough to breathe the same air. She hoped he would agree to this one request of hers with grace and understanding. She took the nod he’d given to Verity for his consent, but felt the need to discuss it further.

They were finishing their pie when Demelza returned to the parlour, and she prayed the cold cloth she’d pressed to her face and eyes would hide the fact she’d been crying. “Julia’s doing her best to fall asleep after her dinner, so I should take her upstairs in a moment.” She sighed a little. “I think I will join her there for a lie down.”

Ross stood and crossed the room to her side. “Are you all right, my love?” he asked gently, his sharp eyes peering into hers.

“Yes, Ross,” she said, leaning in against the hand that caressed her arm. “Just a little tired. Verity, forgive me, won’t you?”

“Of course, my dear!” Verity stood and walked over to where Demelza stood. “You’ve had a very busy first day up from your confinement. I have my marching orders, so I will send word from the church in Sawle as soon as I have it.”

“But the guests?” Demelza said, panic rising in her voice once again.

Verity held up a piece of parchment. “Ross has given me the names of the guests to invite to each of the gatherings, so leave that to me.”

Demelza breathed easier. “Please stay and finish your pie, Verity, and I hope to see you soon.”

Her cousin nodded. “I shall come over again in a few days to help finalize the plans.”

Demelza hugged her cousin and looked up at her husband before leaving the room. She walked swiftly to the stairs and the sanctuary of the bedchamber. She tucked the baby into her cradle and banked the fire before changing into her night rail and crawling into her bed. She was asleep within moments.

An hour later, the mattress dipped down next to her, bringing her from her doze. She looked up to find Ross, fully dressed and lying atop the covers, watching her.

“R-ross,” she said, sleepily, reaching out to touch his face.

“I could tell you were crying earlier, Demelza,” he said, his voice catching on her name. He captured her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Forgive me, my love.” He leant down and kissed her forehead before sliding down to gather her into his embrace. “Forgive me my tone and my lack of understanding.”

“I just don’t want to shame you, Ross,” she murmured into his shoulder.

“Never, my love,” he coaxed, tipping her chin up to raise her eyes to his. “You make me proud, every day. And I am not angry with you. Only the imbeciles I am forced to include in my life.” He shifted so he lay flat on his back, his head even with hers on the pillows. He turned his head and looked at her. His finger came up to trace her jaw and she shivered. “Were it up to me, I would quit the mine and spend my life farming my land and living a peaceful, secluded life with you and Julia and any other children that may come.”

She smiled wistfully, leaning up on her elbow before draping her upper body across his and resting her chin on his chest. “But you can’t do that, Ross,” Demelza said simply. “You’ve the workers in the mine to think of.”

“Precisely,” he said wearily. “The lives of a hundred people depend on that mine, so I must do whatever I need to in order to keep it solvent.” He rubbed his eyes. “And that includes engaging some of those imbeciles in business. Verity was right about that.” He looked down at her. She sighed, closing her eyes as his fingers ran through her tumbled-down hair. “In any event, I wanted to check on you before I go to the mine for a few hours. Will you be all right, my dear?”

She opened her eyes and basked in his whiskey-warm gaze before nodding and snuggling back into the bedclothes. “I will be fine, Ross. I’ll rest a little while longer until Julia wakes for her next feeding.”

He nodded, leaning down to brush her lips with his, which wound up taking longer than she was sure he’d intended. He broke away at length, his eyes a good deal warmer than they were moments before, and left the bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~**~

“I recommend you go in and talk with her, now that everyone has gone,” Dwight said, mounting his horse and turning to look at Ross. “It’s not something that should wait much longer.”

“So long, Dwight,” Ross called, raising his hand in farewell to his friend. “Thank you again for coming and your counsel.” He watched Dwight ride around the corner before he started to make his way to the cottage.

Julia Grace was christened that morning. Ross was more than happy that it was finished. _No,_ he thought to himself. _No, we do it all again tomorrow_ , and groaned.

The preparation for the event had seemed to consume all of the energy from the house. Demelza was a bundle of nerves much of the time; when she wasn’t tied up with tending to the baby. As a result, there had been little time to continue their explorations back to one another. What times there were… well, he grinned despite his weariness. It seemed they both decided on approaching the other when least expected. There was the time when he’d returned from working in the fields for dinner only to be dragged upstairs and behind closed doors, biting his pillow while she caressed him with her mouth. Or the time when they’d wound up back in the haystack one night, fully clothed but rutting against one another like animals.

At times he knew they both felt as if they were newlyweds once again, while at other times they were each thoroughly bone tired from new parenthood. The night before the christening was more of the latter, with Julia being particularly fussy. She cried, piercing howls of indignation that had baffled both of them as they paced back and forth with her for much of the night. By the time dawn arrived, none of the Nampara Poldarks had got more than two hours of sleep and were owl-eyed with exhaustion. Their departure for the church was delayed by a needed repair to the cart (Ross made a note to have a go at Jud over that later), however as soon as they arrived, Julia lay calm, sleepy and silent. The mutual sigh of relief both Ross and Demelza gave at this was comical.

Despite this rather inglorious start, Ross considered himself the most contented man in Cornwall, walking into the church at Sawle, his beautiful wife by his side carrying their daughter. Julia was wearing a christening gown her mother had worked into the night to finish; lace they’d salvaged from the gown both Ross and his late brother had worn so many years ago scalloping around the hem. Ross told Demelza his mother Grace had made their gown and she surprised him with the late addition to their daughter’s. “Your mum will be with us in more than just name today, Ross.”

The gathering at the house that followed started out well enough, although Demelza’s anxiety increased almost exponentially as guest after guest arrived. Ross had no idea what he could do to ease the concerns about her origins. Inviting her father and stepmother to the first christening party had _not_ helped.

She was always so concerned about where she came from and how it impacted _his_ reputation. As if he cared a wit about his reputation. He did what he could to reassure her of her position in his life and, through that, within the community. He hoped it would ease with time. And this was a wonderful occasion to celebrate with people who were important to them. Friends. Family. And therein lies the rub.

He winced as he remembered the look of hurt, almost betrayal that she gave him when she saw them marching up the yard towards the cottage. And the scene that occurred once Mr and Mrs Carne walked through the door did nothing but make the things worse. Couple that with Ruth Treneglos’s double-edged comment when she accepted Ross’s apology on behalf of his father-in-law and any progress made earlier in the day was lost for Demelza.

They hadn’t had a chance to talk about it yet, but as Dwight said it wasn’t something that should wait.

Ross walked into the cottage, pursing his lips as he looked at Demelza. She had her back to him, looking out the window. The tension set in her shoulders told him all he needed to know: she was spoiling for an argument. He cast a glance at Jud and Prudie, who sat at the parlour table more guests than servants. One fairly gimleted eye in their direction and they slinked out of the room in haste. He waited for the door to close before he approached her. “Demelza?”

She turned to face him, the baby in her sling. “Ross?”

Ross blinked. He wasn’t certain how to proceed with the baby in such close proximity. He cleared his throat. “About what ha—”

“—I don’t understand why you invited them today!” she hissed, tears of fury in her eyes. “Today was for _your_ lot, our friends and—”

“—Family, Demelza,” he interrupted quietly, “yes, family. He is your father, whether we like it or not, there is nothing that can change that.”

“They meant to shame and disgrace me,” she went on, dabbing at her face with a handkerchief and performing the graceful swaying bounce to her step that kept the baby calm and quiet.

“They failed,” Ross said, with authority. She rolled her eyes at him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, bringing her movements to a halt. “My dear, there is no escaping where you were born and where you come from. The only thing we can do is show them you are no longer from there. You are of Nampara.”

She frowned at him and stepped out of his hands, walking and bouncing over to the hearth. “And I felt like a drudge next to Ruth and Elizabeth. Fitted up in the newest fashions, so trim and elegant!”

Ross felt the colour rise in his cheeks and was thankful her back was towards him. He himself had found himself marvelling over Elizabeth’s poise and beauty, enough for Verity to comment.

_“They’re very different,” Verity said, looking at the two women._

_“Yes,” he nodded, sipping his brandy. “Yet each has something the other lacks.”_

_“Perhaps you’d like them both.”_

_“Perhaps I would,” he said absently._

The look from Verity should have singed all of the hair from his head. The instant he realized what he’d said he felt shame. To give any credence to Demelza’s lingering insecurities over his feelings towards Elizabeth was unacceptable. He searched for words that he could give her, to alleviate some of the despair he heard in her voice, yet each sounded hollow or shamefully untrue. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. Her expression was mulish, her eyes still glistening with tears. “I love you,” he murmured. “Is there anything I can do to make what happened today right?”

She sighed. “I need to be alone right now, Ross. To think.” He nodded, his stomach feeling hollow with concern and went to the library.

He stared at the ledger books for a while, before going through some correspondence, only half comprehending what he read. He paced, glanced at his pocket watch and paced some more. Thirty minutes later, she entered the room. “Demelza, I’m sorry. I should have told you I invited them for today’s event.”

She stared at him for a moment, then walked straight into his arms and kissed him.

Over the past several weeks, whenever they exchanged light kisses of greeting or affection he’d learned to leave a space between them for their girl. The gesture no longer felt strange to him. This time, however, her kiss was hungry, her tongue snaking out to flick and tangle with his. He growled, low in his throat, his hands coming up to grip her head and return it. He felt her tremble against him, her fingers in his hair and he stepped forward…

At which point, Mistress Julia Poldark reminded her parents of her presence between them.

The pair sprang apart as the baby’s wails split the silence of the room in two. “There, there!” Demelza murmured apologetically as she attempted to soothe the baby’s distress. She cast apologetic eyes up at him, resuming her bouncing and walking. “I’m sorry!”

He gave a wry laugh. “It’s not all your fault,” he said. Then he looked at her. “Well, perhaps it was more your fault than mine.” He grinned at the outraged look she gave him, all the while bouncing and rocking. “You _did_ come in here and kiss me like you hadn’t seen me in a year.” She glowered at him, bouncing and rocking. “Shall we try it again once Julia’s decided to go to sleep?”

She stomped her foot, the grin on her face belying the gesture’s intent. “Ross,” she said.

He walked over to her and slipped his arms around her waist, wailing baby and all, and kissed her. “I am sorry.”

She nodded. “Me too.” They spent the next fifteen minutes walking around the library, their movements and murmured voices settling the baby down until she was making soft cooing noises that never ceased to charm him. Demelza stopped, drawing him near, and kissed him softly. “I think I’ll take her upstairs and see if she’ll nod off after feeding.”

Ross stroked the baby’s cheek and kissed his wife’s. “I’ve a few things to do here, but will join you shortly.” She nodded and left the room.

An hour passed before Ross climbed the stairs to the master bedchamber. He was exhausted, particularly so after the lack of sleep from the night before. He was blearily nudging the door open with his shoulder whilst loosening the stock from his throat when he saw Demelza curled on her side under the bedclothes. Or, as he noticed upon a second glance, only the sheet! It was warm upstairs, residual heat from the warm June day just past and she’d folded back the heavy coverlet and slipped under the sheet. He glanced by the foot of the bed and noticed her nightrail laid partially wrapped around one of the bedposts. He swallowed, his body responding instantly to the implications. He silently closed the door and advanced towards the bed, unbuttoning his waistcoat. Her slender foot peeked out from under the sheet, the delicate arch and narrow ankle enticing him. He removed his clothing, letting his shirt fall where it may before sitting down to remove his boots and stockings, silently setting them down by the hearth. He lit several more candles, checked on Julia, exhausted from the lack of sleep and all of the attention the day had brought, and slipped out of his breeches and stockings. His cock ached, images of her naked body, hidden only by a sheet making him twist with need, a need to please her and only her.

He knelt down next to her foot and kissed the arch and ankle. She sighed in her sleep, her legs shifting against one another, the soft satin hiss of skin on skin making Ross close his eyes. He ran the tip of his tongue up her calf, causing her to murmur something unintelligible and shift onto her back. Excellent, he thought to himself as he slid his torso up and onto the bed between her legs. He brushed a kiss along the inside of her knee, the stubble of his beard rasping against her tender flesh, bringing her awake. She gasped, loud enough to wake the baby, and froze. Ross winced, silently murmuring fervent prayers that Julia would sleep. Five seconds later they’d both began to move again, Demelza to shove the sheets away and Ross to where he breathed her in and began to feast.

Oh, how he’d missed this, missed sharing his love for her this way. The sweet, remembered taste of her made him shiver and moan against her, the vibrations from his voice making her tremble. Her fingers slipped through his hair, nails scratching his scalp as he wrapped his hands around her thighs and lavished her with the attention he’d withheld all of the weeks passed. She came, her cry muffled by the hand she held over her own mouth and Ross shuddered with pleasure, his hips thrusting against the mattress, wanting to crawl up her body and slip inside but knowing he could not.

He looked up to find her heated gaze fixed on his. “More, please,” she murmured, rocking her hips against his mouth. Ross moaned, kissing and tonguing her swollen inner lips, sucking on her bud, using the tip of his tongue to swirl around it. He vaguely felt the top sheet slither past his shoulder and looked up to see her pressing it against her breasts. His moved one of his hands down to his cock, blazing with heat and more sensitive to his touch than ever before. He whimpered as he stroked it within his fist, its rhythm replicated by his tongue’s caress of her bud and inner folds, making them writhe together as his climax neared. Her nails scored his scalp, electric in their touch and he froze, spilling his seed against the bottom sheet, shuddering and gasping against her thigh. She sighed, a second climax upon her, softer than her first.

Several moments passed before he raised his eyes to look up her body at her face. He blinked. It almost looked like…she was… laughing? He rose up, propping himself on his forearms and glowered. “What is so funny?” he hissed. She motioned for him to lie next to him. Once he was up against the pillows she snuggled against him, still shaking with silent mirth. “What?”

“I was wondering what Prudie is saying to Jud,” she whispered.

He looked at her. They just had a delicious interlude with one another and she was thinking of Prudie? “About what?” he said, trying to not let his ego take too much of this personally.

“We are making a mess of the sheets,” she said, a wicked smile teasing the dimples from her cheeks.

Ross paled. “Merde,” he said, mortified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry for the delay! I had major abdominal surgery on March 3rd and have been a bit spacey and in pain since then. Doing much better and getting back into the saddle again. Many thanks to those of you who checked in on my during my recovery, it really meant a great deal to know you kept me in your thoughts and prayers during that time!
> 
> I thought we would be finished with this chapter, but the outline was so long it's been split in half! The good news? Here's the first half! The bad news? Haven't started writing the last half. But now that I'm coming off the major pain meds and can sit up comfortably for a bit, I'll be able to get back to work! 
> 
> My thanks to my beta and friend Jackie and my fic buddies xxSparksxx and Rainpuddle for their friendship and ongoing support of the work, for those of you who have left me comments and kudos and for those of you who have told your friends about my writing.


	9. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Demelza are expecting their first child. Inspired by the 2015 production of "Poldark" with some references to the original written works by Winston Graham.

Demelza breathed in the clean, salty air and wiggled her toes in the light surf. It was her first trip down to the beach since Julia was born and she was happy to share it with her. It was two weeks since the baby’s christening and her strength and energy improved with each passing day. She felt she’d finally found her rhythm in her new role as mother.

And was well on her way to recovering her rhythm as wife.

The last two weeks were a mixture of rediscovery and mounting frustration for both Ross and her. Only the night before they had to bring their intimacies to a swift halt. She frowned as she remembered the fear that had swept through her the moment Ross slipped his finger inside her. _No_ , she thought to herself, _fear was the wrong word_ , because she knew she had nothing to fear from her husband. It was panic, pure and simple. The remembered pain of labour and, more specifically, whether her inner body had been irrevocably changed, changed enough to be a disappointment to the man she loved beyond anything.

Demelza knew this was something she had to come to terms with, something that she might not be able to do on her own, but instead would need to share with that man.

She looked at the baby in her sling and tickled her cheek, and softly laughed as Julia rooted against her questing hand, cooing and felt the tingling begin. She quickly unbuttoned her blouse and nestled her daughter to her breast, sighing at the tugging strength of the baby’s mouth. Demelza adjusted the sling to shield her exposed skin and turned to walk back to Nampara. She had some thinking to do.

They’d established a routine, for the nights when Julia was sleepy and cooperative. Ross would care for the baby while Demelza took a bath. One final feeding and they would put her to bed and see what might happen between them. That night was no different from any other, except for the anxiety nibbling along the edges of Demelza’s mind. She picked up her brush and ran it through her hair, watching him walk around the room preparing for bed. She struggled to find the words to start, then decided it would be best to be honest. “Ross?”

“Yes, my dear?” He glanced up from the buttons of his waistcoat. Something in her expression must have given her away because the humour that had remained in his eyes from his time with the baby was swept away, replaced by worry. He walked over and sat next to her. “What is it, Demelza?”

She looked up at him. “About last night.” He closed his eyes and she reached out to touch his arm. “I’m not going to apologize again, I promise,” she said with a small smile. “But I want to explain why I think it happened.”

“You have nothing to explain, Demelza,” he countered, covering her hand with his.

She nodded. “I do. Come to bed,” she murmured. The corner of his mouth twitched and his fingers reached for his waistcoat once again.

Minutes later, she slid under the bedclothes and into the shelter of his arms, rubbing her cheek against his chest and breathing in the scent of him. She swallowed and forged ahead before the caress of his hands on her skin made her forget her intentions. “Do you remember the first time we were here, in your bed?”

He paused in his caresses and looked at her. “Yes, of course I do, my love,” he said, confusion etched into each line of his face.

“We’ve been together many times since then, haven’t we?” she stated.

“We have, and it’s been a wonder to me, each time.” He leaned up onto one elbow and looked down into her eyes. “Demelza, whatever is the matter?”

“I panicked last night, Ross,” she burst out, rising up to sit against the pillows.

“Panicked about what?” he said, worry entering his voice. He mimicked her position and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I told you we would go at your pace, my love.”

She nodded. “I know you did, and I love you for it Ross,” she whispered. She turned to face him and stroked his arm. “I panicked because I am afraid I’m changed. Beyond what has changed with my shape.” She raised her eyes to his and clasped his hand. “Changed on the inside, I mean.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “Inside?” he asked. His cheeks reddened. “You mean your—”

“—Yes, Ross,” she interrupted, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks. “After my labour, after the tear, how could I not be changed inside? Is there a scar you will be able to see?”

Ross shook his head. “I’ve seen you, a number of times now that we’ve been exploring,” he murmured, “I don’t have my eyes closed when I taste you, dear one.”

Her cheeks burned with remembrance and she felt a small glimmer of hope flutter into her heart. “But,” she paused, swallowing hard, “what if I have been loosened, so that it won’t be the same for you to be inside me?” Ross shifted, brushed this thumbs along her cheeks before framing her face in his hands for his kiss. His lips against hers were a balm to her heart and she leaned into him.

His hands slipped to her waist, pulling her against him as his lips left hers to taste the skin of her neck. “Demelza,” he murmured as he gathered her close and quaked against her. She slipped her arms around him, her hands caressing the muscles of his back. “Will you trust me enough for us to try again?”

She trembled, but nodded. “I want, no I _need_ to know,” she whispered against his shoulder before peering up at him. He pressed a kiss against her temple and slid down under the bedclothes, drawing her down with him. She lay across his chest, her hair falling around them to create a blazing copper curtain about their heads, lost in the heaven of his kiss. His hands massaged her lower back and buttocks, drawing her closer until her leg lay between his. She circled her hips, grinding her woman’s flesh against his thigh. He groaned into her mouth, his hips flexing against hers and she shivered as his length thrust against her. The urge to shift over his body to take him inside her was almost impossible to resist except for the lingering kernel of fear that stopped her.

She mewled against his lips, and Ross broke their kiss, his hands brushing her hair back from her face. “I know,” he gasped, “I know, my love. Soon.” He shifted her from atop him to his side, turning to face her. “Let me love you, trust me.” He kissed her again, lips, cheeks and jaw before his mouth tasted her neck. He lavished her with his body, hands, mouth, teeth and lips, bringing her near climax time and time again until she was frantic.

He raised his head from between her thighs and looked up the length of her body. “Relax, love,” he whispered.

She nodded her head, shuddering with need and trepidation. He kissed the inside of her thigh and slipped his hand between her legs. The tip of his finger swirled around her bud before slipping in between the folds of her sex. She tensed as he approached her quim and forced herself to exhale as his fingertip slipped inside her. Her nails bit into Ross’s shoulders as she moved against his stroking finger.

“Demelza, you feel so good, so wet,” he moaned against her mound. His tongue returned to caress her bud while his finger slipped further within her.

“Deeper,” she rasped, “please, Ross.” He slowly moved his hand forward. Despite a few brief twinges, the friction of his longest finger inside her was exquisite. She thrust against his questing finger as he stroked her, reaching deep. His tongue curled around her bud and her body clenched around his finger as she came, the waves of her climax robbing her of her breath and shaking her from head to toe.

Minutes passed. She could hear the harsh rasp of Ross’s breathing against her stomach and opened her eyes. He lay shuddering, one arm around her hips, the other moving frantically, his hand wrapped around his cock. She rose, shifting from under his embrace to press him back against the mattress. “Let me,” she breathed, moving between his legs and taking him in her mouth. He moaned, hips flexing involuntarily as his fingers threaded through her hair. He tasted of salt, sweat and Ross. His pulse beat ferociously against her tongue, as she loved him. His fingers tightened and he came, gasping her name. Her nails sank into his hips as she swallowed his semen, shivering with the knowledge of how she’d pleased him.

She kissed him on his lower belly, smiling as the flesh beneath her lips trembled before shifting back up the mattress to rest her head on his shoulder. She purred as he wrapped her in his arms. “Dear Ross,” she sighed.

“Demelza,” he whispered against her hair. She rose up onto one elbow to look up at him, grinning at the sleepy, sated look in his eyes. “Are you all right, love?”

She arched her back as his hand slipped along her spine. “Oh yes,” she murmured, relaxing against his shoulder once more.

“Was there any pain?” he asked, his voice more alert than before.

She looked up to find the concern she’d seen so often in his eyes over the last several months. “There was some.”. She paused, feeling heat rise in her cheeks, and smiled up at him. “Clearly not enough for me to ask you to stop.” He chuckled, stroked her cheek and drew his fingertips back up her spine, making her shiver. “It felt almost like our first time together. A stretching feeling.” She swallowed then asked the question foremost on her mind. “Did you find me changed, Ross?”

His hand stopped and he shifted back to look at her. “No, my dear, not at all,” he murmured. “You felt as you did when we first came together, and since.” She sank against him, kissing his chest before making her way up to capture his mouth with hers. He rolled with her, until she lay on her back, tasting one another for what felt like hours.

Julia stirred and whimpered, bringing their embrace to a halt. Demelza looked up at Ross and smiled. “It couldn’t last forever, my lover.”

He nodded. “Bring her to bed with us, Demelza. I want to spend time with my girls.”

 

Two weeks later, the fifteenth of July dawned hot and humid and made little Julia cranky. _I can’t blame her_ , Demelza thought to herself. She plucked the edge of her blouse away from her skin as she knelt to tend the flowers in her garden. She glanced over at the baby, who slept fitfully under the shade of the lilac bush. “I wish I could be out here in nothing but my shift like you, darling girl,” she muttered as she cleared several deadheads from the roses. She paused to take a sip of cider from the stone bottle she’d brought outside. Cold and tart, she thought with a sigh as it ran down her throat. She cast her mind to remembering the receipt she used to make it, struggling with the details as thoughts from the night before stole through to distract her: Ross’s hands, his mouth, his neck and shoulders, the golden skin of his abdomen, the dimples above his buttocks. They’d spent their time together indulging in touch and taste, repeatedly resisting the urge towards completion for one reason: tonight was the night.It had been two months since Julia’s arrival, eight weeks to allow Demelza to fully heal to welcome her husband back to her bed. 

And she was ready. More than ready. Every look, every conversation they’d had this morning all simmered with the knowledge that there was nothing to keep them from taking that final step together.

Except for the fields. And the mine. And the jam making. And the baby.

She could picture him, working side by side with Jud in the lower field, his shirt cast to the side while they scythed the hay in lazy, rhythmic arcs. She held the bottle an inch from her lips, seeing the beads of sweat gather along his shoulders to snake down his spine to the low waist of his breeches. Would he come home for dinner before heading to the mine? She couldn’t remember if he’d taken something with him to eat. If he came home to eat, perhaps she could persuade him to sneak upstairs…

She put down the bottle and groaned, balling her fists and pressing them against her thighs. If there is one thing she knew she didn’t want the first time they made love again to be a hasty fumble with no meaning. She wanted it to be special, almost like their wedding night: anticipatory, passionate, filled with the resolution of all the yearning and desire they had for one another.

Something special, she mused, a grin slowly spreading across her face. She dusted off her hands on her apron and rose to her feet to collect Julia. She had some planning to do.

Ross did indeed come home for dinner and fixed Demelza with a wolfish grin as soon as he walked through the door. She was grateful Jinny’s attention was occupied with the rabbit stew for there was no mistaking what was on his mind. Demelza put the cherry tart down on the table and brushed her hands on her apron. “Good afternoon, Ross,” she said brightly. “Were you able to finish the hay?”

“Nearly there, my dear,” he grumbled, brushing her cheek with his lips. He was covered with sweat and bits of hay and all she wanted to do was lick him clean. She bit her lip and felt the heat of his gaze drop to the pulse in her throat. At that moment, Jud shuffled into the parlour, heading straight for the cider and broke the mood. “Jud will be on his own the rest of the day,” Ross barked, raising his voice for effect, “with the goal of finishing the last half-acre by the time I return from the mine for tea.”

Jud looked up from his cider glass. “’alf an acre by tea time? Be merciful on an old soul, Cap’n Ross, sir.”

“Half an acre by tea time or you’ll feel my boot, man,” Ross growled. He looked at Demelza and winked, which surprised a giggle from her throat. She turned to get the wine, feeling the blush stain her cheeks. He sat down at the table as Jinny brought the stew. “This looks wonderful, Jinny, thank you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jinny chirped with a blush and bobbed a quick curtsey before leaving the room.

“Ross?” Demelza murmured, sliding into her seat and dishing up the stew.

“Yes?” he said, glancing at her as he picked up a roll.

She reached for a roll and brushed her index finger against his. “You remember the night the pilchards came?” she asked. She spread a little butter on her roll and flicked at look at him. His eyes were dark green and glittered in the afternoon light.

“Yes I do,” he smiled, picking up the butter knife, split his roll and applied a liberal amount of butter on each side.

Demelza took a deep breath and squirmed a little in her seat. “When I was telling you what I liked about you?” He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he dipped half of his roll in his stew and raised it to his mouth. She couldn’t help but lick her lips as his strong teeth sank into the soft bread. “I told you I once saw you bathing in the sea.”

His eyes sparkled as he chewed and swallowed. “I remember, my dear. Spying on me long before I’d begun to see you as the desirable woman you are.” He cocked his head. “Is there something you want to ask me?”

He had a drop of gravy on the corner of his mouth that she wanted to lean over and lick away. He beat her to it. “I told you I wanted you to take me bathing in the sea,” she said, spooning some of the stew into her mouth. She noticed his eyes staring at her lips and she smiled as she chewed.

He glanced out the window, the sun’s heat radiating into the room. “It has been warm the last few days,” he murmured, tearing a bite sized piece of the roll with his fingers and popping it into his mouth.

She nodded. “And it’s been unbearable today.”

“Tonight?” he asked, his eyes direct, his meaning unambiguous. She nodded, returning his gaze with equal heat. He covered her hand with his, tracing circles across the top with his middle finger. She pressed her knees together under the table. “What of the baby?”

“Jinny said she can take care of her this evening,” she murmured. “I invited her to stay in the spare room with Kate for the night.”

His hand gripped hers reflexively. “Demelza.” His voice was dark, intimate and she leaned towards him, stretching to reach his descending lips. He tasted of butter and thyme and she moaned deep in her throat. He nipped her upper lip before leaning back in his seat. “I would take you upstairs right now if I could.”

“I would let you,” she admitted throatily.

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “I fear all of our teasing may have made us too hungry to be mindful at this moment,” he drawled, lacing his fingers with hers.

She gave his fingers a squeeze. “As much as I want you, I still worry.”

“I as well,” he agreed, “and I want to have a care, and admit I cannot be certain I could right now.” He sighed and smiled and Demelza’s heart warmed under his regard. “So we will swim. Midnight?”

She nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ross stacked up his notes for the shareholder’s meeting and checked his pocket watch for what must have been the ninth time. Half past eleven and he felt his body tighten with anticipation. He’d been unable to focus on the notes – or anything else, for that matter – for the entire evening, hell, for the entire _day_ and the reason was currently upstairs with their kitchen maid.

Demelza had told him she’d been discreet about their reasons for Jinny to remain at their cottage for the night, but given how his wife had grown to consider the girl her confidant, he was fairly certain the maid had sorted it out. He’d clenched his teeth and ordered himself not to be embarrassed. It had worked for most of the day, but as midnight approached he found himself increasingly unable to meet the girl’s eyes. That’s when he decided to close himself up in the library. He wasn’t hiding, dammit; he had work to do.

In the end, he couldn’t blame his wife from seeking the counsel of her friend. He’d done the same thing himself, when Dwight came to the mine to check on his patients. Not that he’d gone to seek him out to do so, of course. The man had flat out asked Ross what was causing him to be distracted enough to require Dwight to repeat his question for the third time.

" _What?” Ross asked, frowning._

_“Honestly, Ross, it’s a simple question: will next Thursday suit for follow up visits with the affected miners? What is going on with you?”_

_“My apologies, Dwight.” Ross’s face burned with embarrassment. “I’ve a bit on my mind.”_

_“Anyone with eyes can see that,” Dwight agreed. “Is something wrong with Demelza or the baby?” Ross looked at Dwight out of the corner of his eye. He could almost hear his friend’s mind whirling and saw the moment realization dawned upon him. “How old is Julia today again?”_

_“Two months.”_

_“Oh,” Dwight said meaningfully. “Do you… er… are there any concerns—”_

_“—No,” Ross interrupted curtly. He sighed and looked his friend in his eyes. “None beyond my own impatience.” A sharp image of the last time he made love to Demelza flashed before him: the blood, the fear and the guilt. He swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt her.”_

_“You won’t,” Dwight said and put his hand on Ross’s shoulder. “Because you’re concerned and it is on your mind, you won’t. Remember what we’ve discussed and you will be fine.”_

Ross truly hoped so. He was more nervous about this than anything that he’d experienced in his life.. He paced in front of the fire, remembering the time he spent with his daughter earlier in the evening; he’d marvelled over the ways she’d changed in just a short amount of time and she had surprised him by being able to hold her head up to look at him when he had her snuggled against his chest. The long-lashed blue eyes – so like her mother’s – were clearly focused on his face while she sucked on her fist. She stared at him for several minutes before pulling her fist away and smiling. He was awed by the lurch he’d felt in his chest and found himself grinning at her with every ounce of unconditional love he had for her.

He shook himself from the memory as the door to the library opened. It was Demelza. “My dear, are we ready?”

She nodded. “Julia’s been fed and is with Jinny now,” she murmured. “I’ve gathered some linens for us. Is there anything else we need, Ross?”

“That will be fine,” he said, walking over to her and taking her hand in his. Her nervousness was endearing and arousing at the same time. “Gather your cloak and let’s go.”

They made the walk to Hendrawna Beach in silence, her hand clasped tightly in his. He’d often wondered what it would be like to swim with Demelza, had known it would be earthy and sensual, but he hadn’t counted on what the anticipation the walk to the water would bring. By the time they reached the sand his heart was close to pounding through his chest.

He cleared his throat. “There is a cove over to the right that would give us the most privacy,” he said throatily, slipping his arm around her waist and guiding her towards the spot he had in mind. “Although I don’t expect us to be disturbed this late at night.”

“Yes, Ross,” she quavered.

He could hear a tremor around the edges of her voice and he paused, turning her to look up at him. “Have you changed your mind, my dear?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m just a little nervous.”

They continued down the beach in silence until he saw the indentation in the rock face he was looking for. “It’s right here,” he said softly and brought them to a halt. He encircled her waist in his arms, drawing her against him for a soft and lingering kiss. Her fingers reached for the top button of his waistcoat and he reached for the hooks at the front of her dress. They helped one another undress until they were down to her shift and his drawers.

She blinked up at him. “Since when did you start wearing drawers under your breeches?”

“We have several feet to go before we reach the surf so I thought you might be more comfortable if we first went in wearing drawers and a shift,” he said simply. She twitched her brows at him then reached to draw her shift over her hips then shoulders. The moonlight caressed her freckled skin, turning her nipples dark, the russet curls sheltering her sex near black. He groaned and drew her against him, savaging her mouth with his as his hands cupped her buttocks, clasping her tight against his hips. Her hands slipped underneath his drawers to caress his buttocks, nudging the drawers off his hips. The tip of his cock caught on the waistband and he stepped back to allow her the access to free him. She stroked him lightly as the drawers slid down his legs and he shuddered in her arms. He broke their kiss, stepping back and taking her hand. “Come with me.”

They ran to the surf, the chill of the water making them gasp and laugh involuntarily. It felt cool and refreshing against his overheated skin as he drew her along after him until they were both waist deep. A wave slipped in, dampening them to his chest and her shoulders. He turned to her, slipping his arms around her and looked into her eyes. “One, two, three—” and he plunged them both under the water. He heard her squeal through the water and brought them both back up to break the surface, water sluicing from their long hair. They laughed and splashed in the surf, slipping and sliding around and against one another like seals until their hands found what they sought: breast, chest, hip and thigh. They kissed wildly, Demelza’s legs slipping around his waist, bringing her warm woman’s flesh against him.

“Ross,” she gasped against his neck, thrusting against him.

“Demelza,” he groaned against her hair, trembling with the need to hammer into her warmth. “You’re not ready for me, not yet.” She nipped his shoulder and he gasped, his hands reflexively gripping her buttocks and almost crushing his resolve. He slid one of his hands between them, his middle finger easing into her quim, slick with the sea and her own body’s dew. She writhed against him, thrusting madly against his stroking finger. He kissed and nipped her earlobe. “Now two, my love.” The tips of his index and middle fingers teased the opening of her body.

“Oh God,” she sighed, her eyes widening as his hand moved closer. Her brow furrowed and she winced.

He froze, a frisson of fear snaking down his spine. “What’s wrong, love?” he whispered, slipping his fingers from her warmth.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” she gasped, writhing against him. She squeezed his waist with her legs. He grunted, his hips flexing against her, his cock sliding closer to her centre.

“Stop, please,” he groaned. He grasped her hips to still her. “Darling, you looked to be in pain,” he said, reaching up to cup her face. He kissed her. “I don’t want to hurt you, and if we continue I won’t be able to stop.”

She looked at him, and a tear fell down her cheek that she swiped away. “It was a slight stinging sensation, nothing more. It was the salt water,” she explained, releasing her legs from around his waist. The water was too deep for her to reach the bottom. Her legs moved lazily against his, kicking swirls of water around his shins. “It had begun to ease when you stopped.”

Ross sighed and pulled her close. “That hadn’t even occurred to me,” he murmured against her temple. Her tongue ran over his collarbone and up his neck, and he groaned. He leaned his head back to look into her eyes. “And it was easing, yes?”

“Yes,” she crooned, her hands slipping over his back. “I don’t want to stop, Ross.” She slipped her legs around his waist again and pressed kisses on his chest, her lips closing around his nipple. He hissed air through his teeth, and he felt his cock pulse heavily against her slick folds. “I need you, inside me.”

“Let me,” he growled low in his throat. His hand streaked between their bodies, slipping between the inner lips of her sex. He locked eyes with her, pressing two fingers into her, watching for any sign of discomfort. She bit her bottom lip as he advanced, and rocked her hips against his hand. He groaned as her body stroked his fingers as they moved within her. Her nails bit into his shoulders, and he hissed against the stinging sea salt that entered the crescent shaped marks. He used his thumb to caress her bud, and he panted against her throat as she climaxed, the walls of her sex clenching around his fingers.

Ross swallowed, breathing heavily through his nostrils. “Good?” he gasped in her ear. She nodded against his neck. His cock rubbed against her, his tenuous hold on his need for her dissolving by the second. “Demelza, please.”

“Yes,” she breathed, tightening her arms around his shoulders, “now, my lover.”

He needed no further encouragement. He cupped her buttocks in his hands and shifted his hips to bring the tip of his cock to her centre. Her lids opened, her eyes locked onto his. “One word and we stop,” he murmured. She nodded frantically. “I love you, Demelza,” he whispered against her lips and gently thrust forward. They both gasped at that first, tremulous step as the tip of his cock edged into her. He found it hard to breathe as he slowly moved forward, watching her eyes for any sign of fear, praying for resolve should they need to stop. Inch by inch, the walls of her sex eased and welcomed him, the iron control he exerted on his body threatening to waver.

Demelza’s mouth slowly opened in a soundless gasp and he froze, his legs trembling. “My love?”

She smiled brilliantly, her teeth flashing white in the moonlight. “Please, Ross, please!”

The walls of her sex shimmered around him as her legs pulled him against her until he was deep, seated to his root. Ross exhaled forcefully, his vision narrowing as her body stroked his. He withdrew and thrust forward again, and she shattered around him. She gripped and pulled him with the strength of her orgasm, and he ceded defeat over his control. He thrust wildly inside her, the silken heat of her enveloping him, his climax approaching with each movement. _Home_ , he thought desperately, _I’ve come home_. Hearing her breath sigh in his ears, feeling the touch of her hands on his flesh so deep inside her, so close… it was as if he couldn’t tell where he stopped and she began. Oh, he’d missed this communion with her.

The buoyancy of the sea rocked them, made him worry he would lose his footing, but not enough to stop. She was slick, hot, tight. _His._ His fingers sank into the lush curves of her buttocks, nerves of ecstasy dancing along his lower back and to his testicles that squeezed tightly against her body.

“I’m yours, Ross,” she wept against his ear as her hips twisted against his. She clenched around him as he froze within her. Her name was a strangled gasp on his lips as he filled her with his seed. The white-hot force of his orgasm caused his knees to buckle and they barely had time to catch a breath before they sunk under the water, kissing and trembling in each other’s arms before the need for air forced them upward. They gasped as their heads broke the surface. Ross laughed as she pressed kisses along the underside of his jaw. He drew back and kissed her, delighting in the taste of salt and Demelza on his tongue, shivering as her hands slipped down to his lower back. Her fingertips brushed the cleft of his buttocks and he growled against her mouth, breaking their kiss to look down into her eyes. “Demelza.”

“Ross,” she breathed, pressing her head against the curve of his neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist again, the soft hair and flesh of her womanhood brushing against his genitals.

He winced a little. His cock was sensitive as it always was after they made love, yet he snuggled her closer despite of it. “I trust you enjoyed our swim, my dear?” he murmured against her forehead.

“Oh yes, my lover,” she purred as she leaned back to look up at him. Her eyes, sated and content, sparkled with mirth as she brushed a lock of his damp hair away from his cheek. “I should like to do this as often as possible.”

He laughed. “Agreed, my love.” He kissed her leisurely, enjoying the sound of the surf in his ears and the feel of the woman in his arms. She shivered, and as much as he wanted to think it was due to their lovemaking, he knew the chill of the water was the most likely culprit. He broke their kiss and leaned back, chuckling as he watched her pout. “I think we should make our way back to shore.” She released the hold she had on his hips and squeaked when he scooped her up in his arms and started walking towards the beach. He set her down near their pile of clothes and began to dry her skin with the bath linen. She returned the favour, both of them occasionally distracted by a kiss, a caress until their chilled skin warmed with desire once again. He cupped her face in his hands and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Let’s go back to where we started, Demelza.”

She smiled brilliantly. “Yes, Ross. Where we started.” They dressed hurriedly and made their way back up the hill to their cottage overlooking the sea. The door squeaked as they entered the hallway. Demelza lit a candle as Ross set the damp linens in the laundry. They’d just begun to creep up the stairs when Julia’s cry split the silence of the house. Demelza turned to look at him, her eyes filled with apology. He brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Go to her, love,” he murmured. “I’ll wait for you in our bedchamber.”

 

He waited for forty-five minutes, spending his time lighting the candles and stoking the fire in the hearth. He poured a generous glass of brandy and closed his eyes as it slid down his throat and warmed his stomach. He had just shrugged out of his waistcoat when the door opened. She smiled at him, her eyes warm and luminous in the candlelight. “Julia is all right, my dear?”

“Yes, Ross,” she murmured, walking across the room and into his arms. “She was a little startled when she woke, but she was fine once I nursed her.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his. “Mmmm… you taste of salt and brandy and Ross.”

He kissed her, his mouth once again hungry for hers and shuddered at her eager response. Her hands slid up to his shoulders to tug at his braces and he broke their kiss to laugh. “I sense you are trying to tell me something?”

She giggled. “I would have you again, sir,” she cooed, drawing his braces down his arms.

“As I would you, madam,” he uttered, unbuttoning her blouse.

They made love in the bed where their life together started, their bodies gilded in candlelight. Ross let out a shuddering breath as he eased into the cradle of her hips and thrust into her welcoming body. They moved as one, ebbing and flowing like the sea, with and against one another until, with gasps and sighs, they reached completion.

They were silent as they nestled close after their lovemaking. Ross stroked Demelza’s glorious curling hair, smiling as the tip of her index finger circled his nipple. A feeling of profound contentment enveloped him with her in his arms, her body pressed against his. In a flash, he realized that’s what he’d been feeling: wholeness with her. They’d welcomed their daughter into their lives, had begun to return to one another; and now, tonight, they’d finally reached the end of that journey back to wholeness.

“Dearest Ross,” she sighed against his throat. “What are you thinking?”

He swallowed heavily, and found he needed to clear his throat. “That we are whole,” he whispered hoarsely. She leaned up on her elbow to look at him. “Christmas night, when I told you I loved you for the first time? It was as if we’d come to a sense of wholeness with one another. Learning about Julia filled me with a joy I didn’t know existed.” He touched her cheek. “We started a new journey towards a deeper wholeness that night, as we awaited our girl.“ His hand caressed her breast and stomach. “Seeing you grow with our child inside you. Spending time with you and with Julia, learning how to be with her and with one another since she’s come into our lives. To know that we can once again find passion with one another, in addition to the joy that comes from loving Julia?” He kissed her gently. “We are whole, more deeply whole than I ever could have imagined.”

“I love you,” she smiled tremulously and kissed him. He wrapped her in his arms and drew them deeper within the bedclothes, cocooned in the warmth of their bodies.

“I love you, too,” he murmured against her lips.

And they slept.

 

Hours later, Ross woke from his sleep to find Julia and Demelza lying next to him. The baby laid face up, her long lashes fanned across her cheeks. He put his hand on her stomach and found it round and tight with her mother’s milk. He brushed his thumb across it and smiled as Julia twitched in response. Demelza sighed and opened her eyes, looking first at his hand then moving up to meet his eyes. “When did you bring her in with us?” he whispered.

“About an hour and a half after we fell asleep,” Demelza mouthed. She reached for the baby. “Shall I put her in her cradle?”

Ross frowned and shook his head. “No, let me. Ross sat up and slipped his hands under the baby. She came blearily awake, gurgling as he scooped her up, leaned back against the pillows and laid her down on his chest. The baby smiled sleepily into his eyes, her fist balling up around a patch of chest hair. He winced and Demelza laughed, rubbing her hand on their daughter’s back before resting her head on his shoulder and slipped her arm around his waist.

Ross resumed stroking slow circles along his daughter’s back and thought about the last several months and all that had become part of his life: a marriage, born of necessity had become the centre of his universe. His child, who – along with his wife – had become the most precious thing in his life.

None of the future’s uncertainties could touch him right now. All that mattered was right there, in his arms.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end of our journey. Who knows what would have happened if Julia survived? What would life have been like for the Nampara Poldarks? What kind of people would they become? Sadly we'll never know. I'm sure most if not all of us can agree that much of the drama and chaos that follows in Jeremy and beyond would have never happened. Share your thoughts about what would have happened with me... I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> I cannot begin to thank my beta, Jackie, for all of the time and energy she has put into making this piece into something truly special. I also want to thank my friend and very first beta ever Sherylyn, who has betaed my fan fics for more than thirteen years and helped me with my first few Poldark fics, even though she had no idea what I was writing about! 
> 
> Next, I wish to thank all of the people on Tumblr and Twitter who have helped me with my research for this story. They have been so very trusting and open about their experiences. All of you who have left comments mentioning the realism of the details need to thank the following people for their input:
> 
> Mayyourbeardnevergrowthin, genie1960, rainpuddle13, xxsparksxx, Lakritzwolf, sivsdotter, goodgirlwhoshopeful, noisylanddefendor, ceallaig1, osmarinamo, Steph73_NL , coolmarg, vitiscouso, shiparker, MesaJazz1, Torunwrites, vickysnest, consandy
> 
> Finally, my thanks to all of you who have left kudos, comments, have recommended the fic to your friends. I continue to be overwhelmed by your kind words of encouragement and appreciation. They mean so much to me. :-) 
> 
> I'm writing a Romelza new fic, this one an AU set in a different time and place called [The Prairie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6492478/chapters/14861215). I hope you'll give it a try. Thank you again for your support!
> 
> mmmuses

**Author's Note:**

> Ch 1 Notes: As always, I am grateful for the support of those of you out there who have comments or offered me kudos here on the archive as well as those who follow/comment on Twitter and Tumblr. Many, many thanks to my beta Jackie for her help on this. I'm going to need it, since I've never had a kid and am now sitting here with five months of baby waiting to write. I've some ideas, but may wind up wanting to hear some of your experiences, especially if you happen to have any particular memories of how your spouses handled the experience. Ross has a few...issues when it comes to Demelza being pregnant. He's a bit of a worrier. I'll be posting requests for help on my blog on Tumblr from time to time so feel free to find me over there at mmmuses. It's just a party over there (not really). :-)
> 
> Finally, have a little time and curious about something? [Ask me some questions](http://mmmuses.tumblr.com/post/135749691978/40-questions-meme-for-fic-writers) on Tumblr. Otherwise, you can find me on twitter @mmmusings. Leave me a DM! More soon!


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